The Time Thief
by S-Jay494
Summary: Tony Stark made the ultimate sacrifice to rid the universe of Thanos, so who is the dead ringer for him found unconscious but alive outside Camp Lehigh a week after the funeral? He solved the mystery of time travel once. Can he solve the puzzle that brought him back? [Contains Tony, Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, Bruce, Peter, Cap, and nearly everyone else at some point or other.]
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Bottom line, this whole story is part of the bargaining phase of grief over the loss of a beloved character. Tony's arc through the MCU was masterful and could only end the way it did. Give RDJ an Oscar (and let's be honest: He should have been nominated and won it for the first Iron Man, but I digress). Despite my adoration for what Tony did and how it makes the character now immortal, I can't leave him dead—not in world as screwed up as this one is currently. So, for those who want to tag along in my FF therapy, I will give you fair warning. This story will be a little lengthy, a little wordy, a little deus ex machina, but you're here because you're not ready to say farewell to Mr. Stark either. So hop in; we're going for a ride. It will mostly follow the MCU up to Endgame and then completely ignore Far From Home as that plot doesn't work for this story.

So time to queue up AC/DC's "Shoot to Thrill" because I just distinctly heard a familiar voice over the radio ask if we missed him…

_PROLOGUE_

_April 7, 1970_

_New York_

Inventor and engineer extraordinaire Howard Stark looked at his watch and sighed with frustration as Tuesday afternoon got eaten by traffic into the City. He'd spent longer than he intended at Camp Lehigh that day and getting home was going to be hellish as the one of the first truly warm days of spring was bearing down on the region. He hoped the sauerkraut he was toting with him wouldn't go bad. Maria's cravings during the pregnancy were odd but hadn't strayed into spoiled food. But, he thought as he gripped the bouquet in his other hand, if the damn German slaw was bad, the flowers would make up for it.

He watched the cars out his window without honestly seeing them. His mind kept straying to that MIT professor he'd just met. There was something odd about Professor Potts.

At first, Howard wondered if it was just his own usual combativeness with academics coloring the encounter in his mind. Some intelligentsia gave him the cold shoulder—a self-satisfied superiority complex they carried by wrapping themselves in degrees (that he did not hold) like armor. They did it simply to try to overcome their feelings of jealousy over having never invented what he had. They were forced to teach his accomplishments to their students. Degrees were great for those who needed them, but Howard wondered what value did multiple PhD's hold compared to actual inventions that worked and hands-on technological breakthroughs? Just as bad were the academics that fawned over him with a sickening reverence. Sure, he liked attention, but sycophants turned him off instantly.

Potts was definitely different. He spoke respectfully to Howard, yet there was also something in his voice that might have been regret. The entire encounter gnawed on Howard. As he made a mental note to ask the man about it the next time he ran across him at the installation, the phone rang.

One of the perks of being a cutting-edge inventor was having access to all sorts of bells and whistles the average Joe didn't know existed. For Howard, his latest perk was a telephone in his car. Granted, it was up front with Jarvis because the wiring needed to be closer to the battery in order for the sound in the handset to travel properly. He'd made notes on how that could be fixed in the future, but after the call came in, his thoughts about call clarity disappeared.

Jarvis answered and held a clipped conversation that was over in a matter of seconds. The result was the car racing out of their lane and toward an exit.

"I'm supposed to be heading home, Jarvis," Howard said. "If that was anyone telling me I'm needed for work tonight, they can kiss my…"

"It's about Mrs. Stark, sir," Jarvis replied. "They are taking her to the hospital."

"Maria?" Howard sat forward instantly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"They are not sure, sir," Jarvis replied. "She apparently experienced sudden pain and collapsed. The ambulance is transporting her."

"It can't be time for the baby," Howard argued. "There's still two months to go."

"The doctor will be with her shortly, sir," Jarvis offered in his reassuring tone. "We will be there soon as well."

Howard released a tense breath and stared out the windscreen with an intensity he used to reserve for Nazis.

He'd been against having children. He'd married late life, just two years earlier, but Maria was nearly 20 years younger than him and wanted a baby. He really couldn't deny her anything. He'd given up his confirmed bachelorhood for her and settled down. No more starlets or dancers; it was dinner with the wife and a lot of evenings at home since they wed. Knowing what a bastard his own old man had been, Howard was certain fatherhood was one undertaking at which he would fail, but Maria had gone and gotten pregnant (okay, he was a willing participant in the fun part of the process). Then, somewhere along the way, he'd gotten suckered in by a creature he didn't even know. The kid (in Howard's mind it was a boy—a girl would be too much trouble and too much payback for his wilder days) had changed the way Howard looked at the world and his own life. Once the baby arrived, Howard planned to leave SHIELD. Peggy Carter could run things without him (she'd been saying so for years). Howard was done with it all. He planned to retire from the world of intrigue and espionage to be a full-time family man (who still invented weapons—after all, a guy still needed a hobby).

Now he was faced with circumstance he never contemplated: What if it all fell apart?

What if something was wrong with the baby? What if he died before he was born?

Misery at that possibility, one that had never occurred to Howard until that crippling moment, settled into his chest, leaving it tight and fluttering.

Just 30 minutes ago, he'd told Potts there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his child and now… Howard thrust himself back into his seat and scraped his hands down his face. The world was a dangerous place. He was a man who worked with and against dangerous people. What the hell was he doing bringing a helpless infant into that mess? This sudden scare that the kid could be taken from him before they ever met shook Howard to his core. Even if the kid was born, there would be other dangers, and who would be there to protect him? The enemy knew Howard's name. They'd targeted him before. Now, with a family, there was another way to hurt him, to control him, to find his vulnerabilities and threaten freedom everywhere.

Howard had spent 30 years defending freedoms. The free people of the world, even if they didn't know it, depended on him. How could he walk away? Sure, Peggy could handle the spy part of the job like she was born to do it, but she was not inventor. She couldn't build the weapons and support they needed to do their jobs. Leaving that job to someone else was setting SHIELD up to fail.

Howard blinked as life took on a startling clarity—one he'd been ignoring since his wife first told him she was pregnant. It wasn't the kid's fault, but suddenly the baby seemed more like a liability than a reason to rejoice.

Howard felt exceptionally wretched as that thought arced across his mind. He stroked his moustache with a trembling hand and knew he hated himself more than a bit in that moment. He didn't mean it, the liability bit, not in the way it first formed in his mind. But the essence of the thought—the realization that the child, by his very existence, was going to change the world in ways too hard to predict—jolted Howard's mind onto a course he did not see any way to avoid.

It was then, during that nerve-racking car ride to the hospital that Howard Stark, a man whose mind made many momentous (and occasionally disastrous) leaps in an effort to do what he thought was right, decided something pivotal.

The only way to protect his child from the dangers of the world was to keep him as far from Howard as his life and his wife would allow.

**oOoOo**

8 Days-post Tony Stark's funeral

Delta Base—temporary operations center for the Avengers

Colonel James Rhodes sat in front of his battered armor staring into nothingness. He'd been that way for 20 minutes before Sam Wilson decided enough was enough. He strode forward and clapped his teammate on the back.

"So I got the paperwork officially," he offered. "No court martial. Not even getting a fine. They said it like I should thank them—like I'd been on vacation all this time and they were doing me the favor. It's nice to know somethings never change."

"Mmm," Rhodes nodded.

"Hey, man," Sam jostled him. "I'm talking to you."

"What?" Rhodes shook his head. "Sorry. Right. Good they cleared you. Not like they had any other choice. You served five years as dust cloud."

"What I like about you most is your compassion and understanding," Sam grinned then sighed. "How you doing?"

"Me?" Rhodes nodded. "Fine. Just looking at this and thinking…"

"It needs a tune up?" Sam offered as he looked at the many dents, rips, and burn marks in the War Machine armor. "It still functional?"

"It's still got some game, but it needs an overhaul," he admitted. "I was just thinking…" He paused and swallowed to control his voice. "It'll be the first time it gets worked on without the possibility of… Well, I won't have to listen to a laundry list of all the things the techs do wrong or what upgrades it should have. Won't have anyone stepping in to catch a mistake or make a tweak I didn't ask for but realize later was a good idea."

He thumbed a stubborn tear from his eye but kept his gaze straight ahead. He'd lost airmen in combat before, but this was different. Tony was a friend, his best friend, long before the iron suits. They'd met as students—when Rhodes was working his way through MIT on an ROTC scholarship hoping to fly fighter jets someday and Tony was a punk-ass prodigy who yawned during lectures like he already knew the material (usually because he did). Decades of friendship sprouted between them there and flourished years later when Rhodes got to be the Defense Department's liaison with Stark Industries where Tony created all their war toys.

"If you need to talk," Sam said, "I used to run counseling sessions before we all started doing this."

"I know," Rhodes nodded. "Talking isn't my problem. It's the memories. There's a lot, but I'm stuck on one, and it isn't even the last one."

His mind was drifting into the past. 2008. Afghanistan. Kunar Valley. An ambush followed by a disappearance.

Each night since the last battle, that arduous three-month period spent looking for Tony Stark flashed in Rhodes' mind when he tried to sleep. He knew why, too. It was the first time he nearly (maybe he should have?) lost Tony. That was also the first time he got Tony back. That was the real knife in the gut. Tony had been thought dead more than once, but this time there was no skin of his teeth miracle for Tony to pull off. There was no hope that Rhodes could, one last time, save his friend.

"Let me guess," Sam remarked with eerie accuracy, "you're thinking about a burned out Humvee and miles of sand and mountains." Rhodes stared back with a bewildered expression.

"I told you," Sam continued. "I used to do this full-time. You rescued him the first time. You think you should have done it again. That's the space between denial and bargaining, man. It's natural. It's also the grief stage that's hardest to get through. You can tread water in it for a long time, just let me know if it feels like you're going under, okay?"

As Rhodes nodded, Sam sighed. Tony was never his favorite of the bunch, but the guy had stones and Sam could admire that even if he wanted to throat punch the guy at least once a week. Sam once joked with Steve Rogers that Tony was a headache that would come and go—the pain flared sometimes when he arrived and sometimes when he left. In typical Rogers fashion, Cap explained that Tony wasn't like other people and the way his mind worked made him as much of a detriment as an asset at times. Still, Sam knew deep down that what the man did to save everyone (like the whole universe of everyone's) was a feat no one in the whole existence of everything had ever done. It was admirable, especially considering the guy could have chosen to sit in the sidelines (and probably should have knowing what he'd left behind).

"You been hearing the stuff on the news?" Sam asked. "All the tributes?"

"They want to give him the Nobel Prize in physics for figuring out time travel," Rhodes nodded.

"Imagine if he was still here?" Sam chuckled. "No way we'd ever hear the end of that."

"Nah, he wouldn't go to the ceremony," Rhodes shook his head. "He didn't like people handing him things. I suppose Pepper might have forced him. Then again, he might have talked about declining it just to piss off Lang and then mention it wouldn't be his first time being up for a Nobel. He was supposed to win it once before, but he decline."

"No way."

"Yeah, pulled his name from consideration maybe 15 years ago because if he won it, the Board of Directors at Stark Industries was going to claim proprietary interest in the particle field generator he created," Rhodes shook his head.

"I get that he's considered a martyr right now, but I'm having a hard time thinking Tony Stark turned down that kind of praise just because some old dudes in suits were gonna give him grief," Sam said.

"Well, he did it to be a pain in the ass to the Board of Directors as much as anything," Rhodes explained. "He gave the technology he invented to a group called Aqua International."

"I heard of them," Sam nodded. "They do clean water projects for impoverished villages in Africa."

"They do that because Tony gave them the way to do it," Rhodes explained. "He had a patent for a generator. He signed it over to them and bought some tiny little five-guy company in Poland to build the generators. There's no big corporate reason to hang on to that technology other than to gouge some devoted humanitarians trying to help suffering people into giving up something for it."

Sam stared, amazed by the detail but intrigued by the quick grin on Rhodes' face.

"See, I'd think he just wanted to sleep with some hottie Peace Corps woman so he used the patent to close the deal," he asserted prompting Rhodes to laugh.

"Probably," Rhodes nodded then shrugged as his smile appeared reluctant and sad. "Tony wasn't always such a philanthropist. Years ago, I used to get on his case that he could be so much more than be the guy with the headlines with all the money. The day I found out what he did with that patent…"

"You backed off?" Sam guessed.

"No," Rhodes said. "I didn't say anything, but I didn't let up. Anytime I saw the chance, he heard it from me that I thought there was more to him than the playboy. I mean, without telling anyone, he made it so that women in southeast Sudan no longer needed to walk five miles every day, two times a day, to fetch water for their kids only to watch a third of them die from poisoned water. He fixed that, and I never even asked him about it. Now, I can't. I keep thinking about stuff like that. All the things… We were best friends for so long, but… There was a lot of stuff left unsaid, you know?"

As Sam nodded and contemplated how a guy who once dated supermodels and ended up on the pages of every pop culture publication on the planet for a decade could somehow miss giving himself credit for saving a bunch of children he never met, an alert sounded over the PA system.

"Wilson and Rhodes to the control room," the voice of Maria Hill commanded.

The control room, nothing more than a concrete box atop a concrete bunker, was dark and dank. The whole compound was constructed during the Cold War to house Air Force techs who nervously scanned the skies for radar blips that might indicate the Russians were invading. That none ever did simply added to the dismal feeling of the place. Abandoned during the base closure purges of the late 1980s, the place smelled moldy or stale, depending on whether it was a below or above ground location. Nick Fury, recently returned from his dust days, relocated what remained of the Avengers to the secluded spot 24 hours after Thanos departed the universe forever.

The previous site, palatial even by comparison to any base with a military aspect, was a pile of rubble still too hot in some spots to attempt to retrieve what tech might have survived. How the group would rebound was a mystery to most. Their primary benefactor was dead. It was only beginning to dawn on those who supported the initiative how much Tony Stark personally funded the operation. It was unclear to most if Stark Industries would step in and lend financial help. That speedbump left the organization in chaos.

When Banner snapped and brought back all those dusted five years earlier, it wasn't only the heroes who returned. Teachers, cabdrivers, retirees, nurses and lunch ladies reappeared alongside perverts, robbers, embezzlers, murders, and international criminals. While everyone appeared right where they vanished, that was another issue. Being dusted while asleep in bed was one thing. Getting dusted on an airplane at 30,000 feet or while driving on the freeway feet pretty much guaranteed soon-to-be-dead bodies falling from great heights or becoming road pizza during rush hours.

Some returns resulted in desperate and dangerous fugitives—a few of whom were supposed to be in SHIELD custody. Some of those unfortunately returned in locations where they were placed in harm's way resulted in terror filled deaths for others. There was a sudden rash of panic and bodies cropping up in a variety of locations. Shouldering the responsibility to dealing with that had become the Avenger's latest operation.

"You want us to pick up a dropped body?" Sam scoffed as he folded his arms and shook his head. "If we got paid, this would be below our paygrade, I'm guessing. Why aren't you just sending out a detail with a body bag?"

"Because I'm sending you," Fury replied. "This one isn't just anywhere. It's at Camp Lehigh."

"Lehigh?" Rhodes repeated. "Someone was on the base? I thought there was security to prevent that."

"There was a lot going on," Fury said. "Perhaps you recall?" He cut his one good eye back to the computer screen (a small one that made him miss the bigger and crisper one he had the last time he was in charge). "There's also an energy spike detected."

"What kind of energy?" Rhodes asked. "My suit is a little beat up, but it should be able to withstand moderate radiation for a short period of time. No reason to send in Sam."

"It's not radiation," Fury replied. "We don't know exactly what it is other than it registered as magma displacement."

"It was earthquake?" Sam wondered.

"No, but it sent the sensors off like it was one," Fury explained. "We don't know what it is. That's why I'm sending you two. Look, we've got body details all over the place. This one is a single body, spotted by a security guard. He called in a 'weird flash' then he passed out. He woke up and said there's a body where he saw the light burst. US Geological survey reports a magma displacement registration but nothing on the Richter Scale. They're baffled. So am I. Go get me answers."

**oOoOo**

_**Camp Lehigh, New Jersey**_

_**3 p.m.**_

Sam grazed his eyes over the battered and faded sign proclaiming the decommissioned base as the "birthplace" of Captain America. He smirked at the thought of a short, scrawny Steve Rogers. He turned his head to comment to Rhodes, who had just retracted his face shield, but halted. The man wore the thousand yard stare of a man expecting trouble.

"Too soon," Sam said to his partner. "You shouldn't be here. This is milk run. I'll go scan the body, get facial recognition and we'll call in a bus to grab this one. You head back. I can see you're crawling in your skin to get out of that can."

Rhodes shot him a sharp look then deflated. He did want out. His mind was elsewhere—never a good approach to any operation.

"I'll hang back in case you need assistance," he offered then stepped out of the suit, feeling the still crispness of the autumn air envelop his body.

"If this one goes zombie on me, I'm sending it your way," Sam smirked over his shoulder. "This is Jersey. Anything that comes back to life here is bound to be nasty."

He disappeared around what looked like a barracks enroute to the coordinates for the energy signature—one that had dropped off all sensors nearly as quickly as it registered. Rhodes scuffed his foot in the dirt and tried to clear his mind. Taking time off wasn't his style. He was an Airman. He knew about getting back in the cockpit after losing a wingman in battle. He'd done it before. He attributed his current jumble to being closer to the deceased than any other brother-in-arms he'd lost before. Tony was family. Tony's family was Rhodes' family. He was supposed to stop by the house that night to see Pepper and Morgan just to check in. His head was on how that visit, his first since the funeral a week earlier, might go when Sam began shouting.

It wasn't a voice raised just to be heard over the distance and obstructing buildings. There was fear, panic even, in his tones. Rhodes dove back into his armor and launched himself toward the shouts. He dropped to the dusty ground seconds later to find Sam kneeling over the supine form of a man with dark hair.

"What?" Rhodes asked, raising his palm ready to issue a defensive pulse if needed.

"He's alive!" Sam said with wild eyes as he scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

"He is?" Rhodes moved forward. "Call for medical!"

"I think we need more than an ambulance," Sam said as he shifted away to reveal the rest of the man's face.

Rhodes gasped and dropped to his knees as his shield retracted. His breath caught in his chest as he registered the face in front of him with its closed eyes, dark hair, and goatee with chinstrap sides.

"You're seeing what I'm seeing, right?" Sam asked.

Rhodes retracted his gauntlet and pressed two fingers to the body's neck just has Sam had been doing. There was a pulse. Strong and quick. He keyed his comlink and found his voice.

"We need immediate transport at the Camp Lehigh site," Rhodes ordered. "Bring the containment cradle and have medical standing by."

"Transport dispatched," the calm and commanding voice of Maria Hill responded.

"Rhodes," Fury's voice followed. "What have you got?"

"Not a what," Sam replied. "It's a who. Damn!"

"Come again?" Fury demanded.

"Sir," Rhodes exhaled as he placed a trembling hand on the unconscious man's shoulder to feel the warmth of a very much alive body, "you're not going to believe this."

He then re-engaged his helmet and activated the broadcast camera. Fury alone could see what was transmitted to his terminal. He blinked his eye as he muttered in surprise under his breath.

"What the fuck?"

"That's what I was gonna say, sir," Sam remarked. He then looked at Rhodes. "Remember what I said about weird shit happening in Jersey? I rest my case."

Rhodes nodded without truly hearing.

"He's got a pulse," Rhodes said. "He's got a pulse!"

"I know," Sam said nodded, but his partner didn't seem to need acknowledgement or agreement. His entire focus was on the man who showed no sign of waking.

"Tony?" Rhodes began in a voice struggling to remain steady as it grew louder and more insistent. "Tony! It's me! It's Rhodey! Can you hear me? Man, open your eyes. Do it now. Damn it! Tony?"

The two shocked Avengers were too occupied with their curious (and impossible) discovery to notice they were not alone. Phased between the corrugated steel wall of the abandoned barracks stood a man. In a previous life, one before his company and life were destroyed by Stark Industries, his name was John Morely. Since dawning his suit, a full-encasing ultra-light titanium armor enhanced with his own special creation, AccuTech, he refered to himself simply as Ghost. It was a fair description because to the world, he was quite dead. He also possessed the technology to walk through (or in this case linger in) solid matter. Ghost hadn't counted on the cavalry arriving to scoop up his prize. He'd been promised that if he successfully made the leap, he could take whatever he hauled with him. Stark, what was left of him, belonged to Ghost.

**oOoOo**

**A/N:** So this is how the chapters are going to go: some short (this is considered short); some long. This was originally a completed story in script format (about 100 pages of dialogue). Friends begged for it to be a story, so I'll be throwing the scenes and whatnot together as I go along and publish the chapters. Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**oOoOo**

_Camp Delta_

_Infirmary_

"I was told he died," Fury said as he took long, silent strides down the hallway at Camp Delta that led to the makeshift infirmary.

His face was stony, his single eye blazing. His jaw was rock and his voice was unyielding. Sam and Rhodes stood outside the room where the patient was still unconscious and getting examined by a very flustered doctor who had just signed his life away under penalty of death if he ever revealed what he saw in the room. Neither Rhodes nor Sam spoke as Fury drew closer.

"I was gone," he continued. "My ass was a dust devil to Neverland until suddenly, I'm back. Do you know how my first five minutes back went? First, I see the whole planet is a mess. Next, they said to me by the way, Stark's dead. I attended his funeral—so did both of you. So I ask you: What in the hell is going on here?"

Rhodes shook his head. He was less interested in a lecture than he was in hearing what the doctor had to say. There were monitors beeping and muffled discussion occurring behind the door. Rhodes was mad that he'd taken off his armor upon arrival. He could have used its enhanced surveillance applications to hear the doctor's conversation over Fury's rant.

Sam wasn't as distracted.

"He did die," he replied. "I saw him. We all did. He was toast. The Gamma radiation from the stones fried him. We cremated his body—had to be due concerns about radiation contamination. Banner and that raccoon took care of it. I don't think they pulled a switch. Tony Stark is dead."

Fury's nostrils flared as he raised a hand and pointed at the treatment room door.

"You mean he was dead," he boomed. "Now, what the hell do I have on my hands?"

Sam considered his zombie theory. It was a joke to a point, but what else could he call a dead man showing up again after his funeral? Rather than offer a theory, he just shrugged.

"This is out of my wheelhouse, but considering what everyone did here recently," he said, "I don't think time travel is out of the question. Maybe what we've got in there is the pre-death Tony Stark."

Fury scoffed and shook his head.

"I want a better answer than that."

He then took several determined steps into the closed room. Sam hung in the doorway while Rhodes followed Fury to approach the bed. A curt glance with an unpatched eye sent the healer into the corner to consult his notes and try very hard to develop power of invisibility. Fury loomed over the bed. In it lay a being that greatly resembled the late (and in his own mind great) Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark. He was awake, quiet, and his expression was cautious.

"What is your name?" Fury asked succinctly.

"You used to call me sweetie," Tony quipped in a tired voice that raised goosebumps on Rhodes' arms.

"We can hook all sorts of high-powered electrodes to your fun spots if that will get me an answer," Fury continued.

"You and the humor," Tony forced a smirk. "You should work on that."

He shifted in the bed and his jolted against the restraints keeping him in place. His dark eyes opened wider as his grin faded.

"What is this?" he asked struggling. "Where am I?"

His struggle ended quickly as he succumbed to both fatigue and the straps. Monitors around him wailed warnings and the doctor cleared his throat and asked everyone to keep calm. His request was lost in the din of the machines and Fury's determination.

"This is Earth," he said unhelpfully. "Now, start again. Who are you?"

"Wait," Tony gasped and dropped his head back to the mattress in defeat, "I made it home? Nebula and I got here? How?" He closed his eyes and winced as though pain lanced through him. He opened the orbs again to show fear and tears on the verge of spilling out as he glanced at Rhodes. "I lost the kid. Thanos… He beat me… He got Strange's time stone. The stupid son of a bitch gave it to him. He only needs one more."

Fury did not shift his gaze, but Rhodes felt Sam's eyes on the back of his head. He turned, and they exchanged wide-eyed glares of comic proportions.

"Thanos is dead," Fury said in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a fact. He then turned his head and looked squarely at Rhodes in a silent order to help him before turning his glare back on the patient. "Do you know who I am?"

"The Dread Pirate Nick Fury," Tony mumbled as he looked around the man to fix his despondent gaze on his friend. "Rhodey? What's going on? How did I get here? We were adrift. No power. Oxygen had less than a day left. Where is Nebula? You can't miss her. She's blue and only sort of smiles when she wins at paper field goals."

"Nebula?" Rhodes repeated. "You're talking about after you left Titan."

"Yes," Tony pleaded. "Thanos is the blue meanie's father… in the Stockholm Syndrome kind of way. She tried to kill him, but… He beat us, and he got the stone from the wizard. I don't know what he did, but it had to be something caused by the stones. Rhodey, they all died. Right in front of me. I couldn't stop it. It was my fault. The kid didn't make it."

Rhodes stepped closer to the bed, unable to keep his distance the way Fury did. Seeing life in those dark (if scared) eyes and hearing that voice again was too powerful of a force.

"What kid?" he asked.

"Peter Parker," Tony answered. "I didn't want him with me. I told him to leave, but he didn't listen. He stayed to be my backup and then…" He closed his eyes and shuddered like electricity shot through him. "They disintegrated. Turned to dust. All of them."

"Hold on," Rhodes shook his head.

Fury stopped him from explaining further as he stepped between Rhodes and the bed.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Fury asked in a deep, ominous tone.

"I just told you," Tony said breathlessly. "Being on Quill's ship with Nebula. We were the only one's left. Everyone else was gone." He lifted his hands as though the dust they became had just sifted through his fingers. When he spoke again, it was in a strangled tone. "Did it happen here?"

"Yes," Fury said, sparing the man no compassion.

"Pepper?" Tony choked on the word.

The monitors frantically wailed again signaling the heart rate was either too fast or the blood pressure too low. The doctor stepped forward but halted as Fury held up a hand in a silent order to remain where he was.

"Rhodey," Tony demanded, dismissing Fury entirely, "is Pepper okay? Did she survive?"

"She did," he answered quickly to stave off Fury stopping him. "But that all happened five years ago."

"What?" the patient seemed to collapse inwardly as his lids grew heavy and his breaths laborious. "No, it was… It couldn't be even a month. I can still feel the dust in my…"

Where he was feeling the dust was never revealed as the machines began beeping incessantly and the patient began coughing. A fine mist of blood sprayed from his lips and brought the doctor out of his neutral corner along with stern orders to vacate the room.

The two men who discovered the mystery patient followed Fury to the control room. It was suspiciously absent of personnel. The man in-charge wheeled around in front of them and held his arms wide.

"What did I just see?"

"A guy choking on his own blood," Sam offered dryly then shrugged as Fury's expression clearly said the blunt observation was not the right answer.

"He doesn't know what happened?" Rhodes exclaimed. "How could he forget the last five years? How is he even here?"

"Better question," Fury countered. "Who is he? We nail that down, the rest might fall into place."

Rhodes blinked. It seemed fairly obvious to him who the man was. The looks were unquestionable. The voice was as spot on as it could get. The inappropriate sarcasm was as good as DNA.

"We run DNA," he offered after stumbling across the obvious solution. "If it comes back that he's Tony Stark, we've got one piece of the puzzle."

"Yeah, but a puzzle of what?" Sam wondered. "Dude straight up died in front of us less than two weeks ago. I get that he's a billionaire and all, but that is one hell of a health care plan he's got."

Fury sighed and leaned heavily on one of the desks. They were tracking literally 100 targets of interest who posed varying degrees of threats. Most were people thought dead from the first snap but sadly returned after the universe was set right again. The way it was explained to Fury, only those taken by the initial snap could be reconstituted and therefore resurrected. Anyone killed by something other than the initial snap was supposed to be dead and stay that way.

_Leave it to Stark to break that rule_, Fury thought.

"Rhodes, get back in that room," he ordered. "When he wakes up again, you talk to him and get me answers. Don't tell him anything. We'll run DNA, but whatever that is, I want to know how much it knows."

"It?" Rhodes repeated. The word, snapped in his mouth like an insult.

"Tony Stark is dead," Fury said. "You witnessed it. I gotta make some calls. You two, get security on that room. No one goes in other than the doctor and the med techs helping him. Keep them isolated so they don't talk to anyone. No one, I mean no one, outside of this group hears or sees what we've got locked up in there."

**oOoOo**

A long night vigil followed. Rhodes dozed off and on in a hard, plastic chair beside the bed. One of the upsides of paralysis was the lack of pain doing something like that gave him. It was dark to think like that, but he smirked and looked at the patient knowing he was one person who would get it (and possibly make the joke himself).

_Correction_, Rhodes told himself as he shook sleep from his head and sat up straighter, _the one person who looked like the guy who would get it._ He was torn by what he saw. A large part of him wanted this to be Tony and was ready to believe it; the remainder of him knew the truth. His friend died. There was no rescue from that. He sighed and rubbed his eyes as the patient stirred.

"Rhodey?" he croaked, sounding precisely the way Tony did when he awoke in the California hospital years ago after finally having the shrapnel from Afghanistan finally removed from his chest. "What the hell is going on? Why am I on lockdown?"

He tugged weakly at the restraints. Rhodes sighed as Fury's orders roared back to him.

"Who are you?"

"What's wrong with you?" he growled. "We've been friends for years, despite ample provocation (mostly on my part) not to be."

_He's got the pissy indignation mixed with a touch of self-deprecation down_, Rhodes noted.

"What year is it?" Rhodes asked.

"It's 2018," the patient said listlessly.

"Missed it by five," Rhodes replied as he decided telling the guy the year wasn't breaking Fury's edict to divulge nothing.

"Can't be," he disagreed and grew swiftly agitated. "I know about space and time dilations. The ship was nowhere near a black hole; and if we were, the time jump would be more than five years. How the hell did we even get here? Where is Nebula?"

Rhodes flicked his eyes to the heart monitor that had been beeping in a regular if not entirely steady fashion all evening. He settled himself on the knowledge that if the doctor or tech didn't come charging in that meant there was no medical danger.

"Calm down or they'll stick you with another needle and put you out again," Rhodes replied. "I'm not lying to you about the year."

"How was I missing for five years?" he asked. "The ship was going to run out of air within hours. It was over for us."

"A lot happened," Rhodes offered figuring that was both truthful and unhelpful so it satisfied his desire to respond to the man and not get his ass reamed by Fury later.

"Fury said Thanos is dead," he said. "How? Was it you guys? You beat him?"

Hearing the question in the voice of the man who made the victory possible broke something in Rhodes. There was defeat in this man's tone, guilt and regret swelling within him. It was a horrible turn for the man (or one who looked like him) who was the undisputed hero of the colossal battle for the fate of the universe.

"We kicked his ass," Rhodes said. "Eventually. Just took some time."

"How?" he relented a wan smile and seemed to relax as though the bed had an additional pull of gravity and sucked him in.

"Long story," Rhodes parried the question. "Now answer me: Who are you?"

The face contracted into a scowl that Rhodes had seen often whenever his friend was beyond displeased and drifting swiftly into full-on pissed. The look was usually reserved for U.S. Senators or anyone who tried to challenge Tony's scientific explanations with their own (less than empirically supported) take on a situation.

"Okay, I've either got hypoxia from the oxygen dropping too low or I'm dead and this is the worst afterlife possible," he snarled. "I'm chained to damn a bed—and not in the fun way—with my fiancée nowhere in sight when she should be sitting here weeping, worrying, and lecturing me… although probably not in that order. My best friend is sitting beside me and doesn't know who I am. If this is heaven, it sucks. If it's hell, I expected more leather."

The rant, even given at a weary speed and tired decibel, hit Rhodes in the sweet spot. He was usually prepared for Tony's tirades and got through them with a stony expression so as not to encourage him to continue with the bombast just for entertainment purposes. However, in his own fatigued state and with a heart longing to hear the outlandish outbursts once again, Rhodes broke. He dropped his head to his hands and caught a guffaw in his palms. It only took a moment to pull himself together again as he scraped his hands down his face.

"Name," he repeated but even he heard the smirk in his voice.

"The last time I checked it was Tony, but I leave most of the details to Pepper," the patient replied.

"Full name."

"Tony Stark," he scoffed then sighed. "Fine, Anthony Edward Stark. Born May 29, 1970. When did I die by the way?"

Rhodes sat up straighter at the question but figured the guy was smart enough and conscious enough to have sussed out where the problem lay and diagnosed what was prompting the questions.

"Nine days ago," Rhodes answered.

"Okay, I was kidding with that question and didn't expect an answer," he replied. "If I died, how am I having a conversation with you and why don't you know me? Is it a dead guy thing? Are you dead, too? Dead means dumb? Please tell me dead doesn't mean dumb. I can do a lot of things. I can't do dumb. I refuse. I'll hold my breath until I die again and get another chance at it."

The nattering approach to complaining twisted the knots in Rhodes's stomach. The rapidity of the question, the comment, and the jockeying for a better option he found more pleasing was quintessential Tony. As much as Rhodes enjoyed hearing it again, it also hurt.

"I'm not dead," Rhodes remarked.

"Hey, neither am I," the patient shrugged, "but that doesn't seem to be convincing you. This might be the thing that finally makes me think you're a bad friend. Not to put pressure on you or anything."

"Tony Stark is dead," Rhodes said.

"Tony Stark is not dead," he replied. "I know. I'm Tony Stark. See how easy that equation is? But, for the sake of an intellectual exercise, let's say I'm dead. I shouldn't be conversing, should I? Actually, hold on. Precursor question: If I'm dead, why didn't you bury me? Did you turn me into a zombie? I never gave anyone permission to make me a zombie."

Rhodes stared. The nonsensical response used to cover a moment of fright that then stumbled and fell headlong into a poor joke to be summed up by an expression of wishes denied was the complicated pattern of a typical Tony discussion.

"We cremated you," Rhodes answered.

The patient lifted his head and looked at his body. He lifted the sheet and took a peek under it as well. He then dropped his hands offered a sour yet superior expression.

"Missed a few parts," he said. "Like, everything. Rhodey, enough with the soft-peddled interrogation. Tell me what the hell is going on."

Rhodes lifted his eyes to the camera installed overnight to keep watch on the room. There was no way he could reveal anything and hope it was kept between just the two of them. Then again, he doubted he could get anything more out of the man without giving him a reason to continue the conversation.

"I attended Tony Stark's funeral a few days ago just after the rest of the world got a jolt when everyone who turned to dust in 2018 returned," he revealed.

"Returned?" he repeated as a light warmed in his dark eyes. "You mean they came back? All of them?"

"Looks that way," Rhodes nodded. "We're still getting head counts from all over. It's a little bit of chaos out there right now."

"You gotta find out if Strange got home and if he brought Peter with him," the patient insisted as the monitor began pinging loudly and quickly enough to summon one of the med techs. "If that didn't happen, someone has to figure out a way to get to the kid. He's stranded out there. We need to bring him home."

"Hey," Rhodes warned as the tech rushed into the room with a syringe that he sunk immediately into the IV snaking out of the patient's arm, "just chill. Okay? They're home."

"Both of them?" he exhaled as the medicine took hold quickly and sapped his strength and made his words come thickly. "The kid and the Hogwarts alumni? Are they okay?"

"Yeah, man," Rhodes offered, putting his hand on the man's arm as reassurance. "They're fine."

That was a bit of stretch. Strange appeared unmoved by the experience, but Rhodes honestly didn't know him well enough to make a real assessment. Parker was another story. He was physically fine but utterly devastated over the loss of his hero and mentor; however, the short answer of 'fine' seemed to be all the man in the bed needed to hear.

"Good," he breathed heavily as his eyes began to close. "I watched him disintegrate, and it was…." He forced his eyes open and fought against the pull of the medication. "Where's Pepper? Rhodey, I need to know if Pepper is okay."

"Yeah, and I need to answers from you," Rhodes pressed, feeling like a heel doing so. "Tell me how you're here?"

"Woke up here," he replied.

"You died."

"I'm not dead!" he snarled.

"I watched you die after you killed Thanos," Rhodes argued.

"What?" he shirked and dropped back to the mattress shaking his head as his eyes began closing. "Me? No. I fought him, and he flung me around like a rag doll. The most I did was draw a trickle of blood on his cheek then he stabbed me. I should've died. Strange made a stupid deal."

He reached toward his side to the spot where Rhodes knew a sizeable scar resided from a healed battle injury sustained five years earlier. He stood beside the bed as the tech scurried from the room, following his dire orders to administer aid as needed but to otherwise not interfere with anything else in the room.

"We fought Thanos not far from here like a week ago," Rhodes told him. "Tony Stark finished him off and died because of it."

"Didn't fight in any battle," he replied groggily. "Didn't die either. Peter died. Strange died after he looked into the future. Said there was only one way to win. Don't know what he saw."

"You told me that five years ago," Rhodes replied.

"No," he groaned as sleep squeezed him tightly. "It just happened. Rhodey, get me out of here. I gotta see Pepper."

"No," Rhodes held firm and hated himself for it. "You're here until we know who you are."

He moved away from the bed as he was not sure how much longer he could keep this man in anguish and hope to get anything useful from him. His hand was on the door handle when the response came.

"I'm the guy who got you a date with Miss Idaho in 2002 for your birthday," the man muttered as he dropped into a chemical sleep.

Rhodes turned slowly and stared at the bed. He swallowed the terrifying and confusing feeling rising in his chest. There was only one person who could have given that answer, and he was cremated a week earlier.

**oOoOo**

Moving between planes of existence was never wise, at least according to all written teachings on the subject. Those who studied the practice (both the spiritual and metaphysical mechanics of it) primarily cautioned against doing it. It could cause madness or even death. If he was a man who knew how to laugh, Ghost would have done that in response to the warnings.

Madness, after all, was a matter of degrees and points of view. It was also hardly detriment (particularly in chaotic times). Death was also not much of a concern for someone like him.

He slipped into street clothing, carefully stowing his specialized suit, a dull gray skin with matching mask, in its specialized Dysprosium case. The suit, like its storage box, was a unique alloy of the rare metal that was processed into fibers one one-hundredth the width of a strand of hair then woven into the energy conducting and bending fabric. The beauty of the suit, in addition to its ability to warp space and time, was that it also afforded him some protection against the disorienting forces that accompanied passing through wrinkled planes of existence.

Wrinkles. That was the best way to explain what he did, folding terrestrial spots over another, moments in time one over another, to travel to places and dimensions without actually physically moving at all.

There was a lot more physics and math to the process, but offering a layman's understanding to a mind-blowing concept usually sidestepped questions and erased doubt in the minds of any simpleton who questioned him—and to him, everyone was a simpleton. What galled him about having to give this particular explanation was that it was not his own. A loathsome creature placed undeservingly on a high pedestal had first coined the short-hand explanation of what was actually an intricate, multiple PhD dissertation concept. A quick quip at a conference to dumbed down the science for a bubble headed reporter the cretin just wanted to waltz off to his hotel room resulted in that man (someone who did not care in the least about the field of kinetic molecular transference). Worse still was the infuriating exchange that occurred during the panel discussion at the conference had surfaced again in the days following the man's death as though it was some sublime call to heal the world and a prophesy for the sacrifice the man would one day make.

**Reporter**: Mr. Stark, what are your thoughts of Dr. Morley's presentation just now about…

**Stark**: My thoughts on his wrinkle theory for how to better invade privacy and trample security? Yeah, gotta say, not a fan.

**Morley**: You don't see value in having unlimited access to any place or time that exists?

**Stark**: Kind of takes the whole living experience out of life if you get do overs all the time. I'll admit, there are several weekends of my life I'd love to relive… or perhaps just remember… My point is that what made them worthwhile is that they happened. To go back and repeat them cheapens the experience and wastes the time I have to create new ones. We're scientists here… or we're supposed to be. We're supposed to create what's new, not linger on what's already done. As for the 'place' part of your little project, if there's a wall in your way, don't spend 10 years and a quarter of a billion dollars learning how to walk through it. Spend a few minutes knocking it down then learn the lesson: The world has enough walls so let's limit the barriers we create between us.

The resounding applause the line received at the time were like daggers in John Morley's heart. Years later, with Morley merely a footnote in a file, Ghost could still hear the sound and feel the pain of that hideous approbation. He shook with rage that his crowning scientific achievement became defined for all time in the annals of science as a quaint from of spying and whose value would only be seen by totalitarian regimes.

He walked stiffly into the drab office building on E 49th Street in New York with those memories boiling in his mind. He took the elevator to the 10th floor and passed by a secretary who merely nodded and pressed a button allowing him access to the office just beyond her desk.

"I read your message," his partner in this endeavor said as the door whispered closed behind him.

The room was partially in shadow as clouds shrouded the sky. His partner was a heavy set man with beady eyes and a fleshy face. He looked like he should be the model for the chef at a touristy pizzeria closer to Times Square.

"I had him," Ghost replied. "I sent you video."

"It's actually him?" he asked. "You… conjured him or whatever?"

"It's science, not magic," Ghost snarled. "I coalesced his molecular structure into this time and place."

"Will he wake up?"

"I have no reason to believe he won't," Ghost replied.

"He won't figure out how he got here and know it was you?"

"The world only thinks Tony Stark is a genius because he boasts about often in front of reporters," Ghost scoffed and ignored the rolled eye assessment he received in return. "He's got no clue what happened to him. He'll never remember being lifted out of his place in the universe. I tapped his own kinetic energy to do it."

There was a light huffing noise. His partner, a greedy and aggressive man who knew more about money than people or science, funded Ghost's five-year long quest to prefect his technology. Theirs was a partnership of necessity. Ghost needed the man's resources; his partner needed a means to spy on his competitors and steal from them without being suspected or caught. Ghost's promise that his suit could allow an underling to do just that was on the verge of being fulfilled. What Ghost wanted was in return something else. This wasn't about profit for him. This was basic revenge. He'd had his life snatched from him when SHIELD operatives raided his laboratory after uncovering ties to the crumbled Hydra organization. He'd then spent four years rotting in an underwater prison without ever getting a trial. SHIELD was only able to catch up to him when their own tech got a shot in the arm thanks to the involvement of Stark. Without him, Ghost would be the one in front of the cameras wowing the world with his latest technology and his innovations to bring order to a chaotic world.

There was a time when Ghost might have admired Stark for his creativity, but when his advanced devises for listening, tracking, and disabling competing technology were gifted to SHIELD agents, Ghost considered it an act of war. From his small, well-lit cell, he plotted his revenge. When guards turned to dust and the prison was suddenly no longer secure, he made his escape.

That's when he met his partner. Five years of collaborating (meaning one paid for everything and the other worked like a dog) was finally going to pay off. Introducing a walking, talking, passable version of Tony Stark into the world again was the final test. It was a huge longshot using that operation to convince his financial supporter that his technology worked, but it was worth it. There were dollar signs followed by oodles of zeroes in the man's eyes now that he knew Ghost could do precisely what he said. (That he couldn't reproduce the effect was one little secret Ghost planned to keep).

"So when do I get suits of my own?" the partner asked. "The return of all these missing people doesn't make my plans any easier, but I can use the current chaos to my advantage if I get moving now."

"Your merry band of thieves can be outfitted within a month," Ghost offered. "I'll just need something from you first."

"I've given you millions of dollars over the last five years," he replied. "What else do you need?"

"My actual payment," Ghost said. "Our deal was that you covered research and development costs and I make you functioning suits. Once I prove to you they work, you give me Tony Stark."

"He died," his partner replied sternly. "You were rid of him for free, but then you went and found another one. It's not my fault you lost him as well."

"Who do you think the world will find at fault if I release the records of what you've been paying me to do, and how you got the money to pay me?" Ghost asked as a cold, cruel smile drew on his thin lips. "Even if we ignore your narcotics trafficking, selling children and women to brothels and warlords is a bad PR move. It'll get worse if the world then learns about your paternity scandals."

The partner's face hardened. His mother had been an enterprising woman, ahead of her time when it came to advancing in organizations that were dominated by men. In the late 1950s, most women were supposed to strive to be a housewife—particularly if they were going to be a mother. His mother, Lila, had other ideas. She got a job as a clerk with a little known government department. She proved herself efficient and eventually moved on to greater responsibility, if not a more impressive title. After several years of dependability and familiarity with the leaders of the Strategic Science Reserve, she was rubbing shoulders with its leaders. So, when she found herself without a ring on her finger but a bun in her oven, she looked for the ideal choice to pin fatherhood to, and there was no more tempting target than Howard Stark.

Howard's work and public life were two different worlds. At the office, he was a brutal taskmaster who oversaw every aspect of any project and knew every detail down to the exact penny it cost to fund it. In public, he wore the personal of the playful, partying inventor who had a new starlet or dancer on his arm each week. A roguish image was okay in those days as long as it didn't tip into scandal. Lila decided all she needed a rumor in the right place to get what she needed. She'd spent many nights working with Howard, and though work was all they did the image of the man made other stories possible. Plenty of people at SSR knew Lila and Howard spent hours together behind locked doors. Once her condition made itself known, she let slip that the child was conceived from a workplace romance.

It might have worked if not for Howard's secret weapon: Peggy Carter. She heard the gossip, confronted Howard and believed his denial. She then forbid Howard to pay the woman off just to make her go away. Instead, Carter did her own digging and discovered the man who Lila had bedded down with regularly, a struggling university student who thought himself the next Eisenhower (just without the military service or sense of duty to the nation). Lila found herself disgraced in the SSR, dismissed from her job, and blacklisted from any government work.

"My mother blackmailed the wrong man at the wrong time," the partner scowled. "That's not my fault."

"No, but at least the second time she did it, she went for accuracy," Ghost added. "She never lived to see him become Senator Stern, did she? That's unfortunate. Science would have helped her prove her case. Still, he kept her in a nice little apartment to shut her up for the last decade of her life. It's good she passed so young. Imagine her outrage after he was convicted of treason. It's a good thing part of her arrangement with him was that you not carry his name. Of course, but that won't matter once the world knows how you build this company, what you paid me to do, and who your father is."

The threat was more than enough to make the man buckle.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You've got ties to the Avengers," Ghost offered. "Use that contact. Get me information about their new guest."

**oOoOo**

**A/N:** Don't worry. The subplot here won't get complicated. This is a story about the characters we know and love primarily. Just needed to set up the obvious villains so they can play their parts.


	3. Chapter 3

**oOoOo**

Dr. Bruce Banner, currently topping 8 feet with green skin and a mild case of myopia, scratched his great head with a thick finger. The screen that had just replayed several minutes of video from the patient stashed at the far side of the compound went dark.

"This is real?" he asked. "Tony is alive and in a room somewhere around this place? This isn't some trick?"

"It's as real as anything in this world gets," Fury revealed. "Give me options for how it's possible."

Banner rubbed his neck feeling the immense muscles bunch in confusion. He was torn between the puzzling question that needed all of his PhD's to comprehend and his desire to race to the room and throw his arms around his loss comrade. Something in Fury's exceptionally unyielding tone told him the second option (although Banner's preference) wasn't on the table just yet. So, his face twisted while he contemplated possible answers to the impossibility he just viewed on his monitor. He supposed there were a lot of possibilities for how a dead man (a cremated one at that) was arguing with Fury's team and demanding to see the woman he loved, it's just that none of them were actual probabilities. Banner would prefer to have someone with more experience in the realm of astrophysics around to bounce ideas off because the explanation that seemed most likely to him also sounded the most outlandish.

"You said there was an energy spike registered and that's what alerted one of your guards to check the camp?" he asked and received a nod. "Well, it could be a temporal rift."

"What causes those?"

"Naturally?" he asked and received another curt nod. "Nothing. They don't exist."

"So you're telling me that the thing that brought whatever that is to our world is something that doesn't exist?" Fury questioned. "What made you think that would be a reasonable answer?"

Banner sighed then shrugged. Talking to someone, regardless of his intelligence and experience, who did not understand the realm of scientific theories was always difficult. He looked back at the blackened screen and knew there was one person in the vicinity who would understand what he was postulating. His eagerness to speak with the man in the hospital bed was strong for that reason. It just grew stronger the longer Banner let his mind settle on the possibility that his friend was still alive.

"I'm saying that we have no experience with the most likely possibility for how that man is here," he explained. "Think of space and time like a piece of fabric. They're fibers that weave through each other. You pull on one thread, and it causes others bunch up and wrinkle. Got it?"

Fury nodded but did not look pleased.

"Now, think of the fabric as being a whole bunch of swatches laid one on top of the other with threads going through all of them, top to bottom.," he continued. "So, one possibility we have here is that this man, this Tony, is from a different swatch than this one who lived and died here."

"You're not talking fabric of time but fabric of reality?" Fury guessed. "This man is Tony Stark from another reality? One that's five years behind ours? How is that possible?"

"How is it possible a dead guy was just having a conversation with Rhodes?" Banner shrugged. "I don't know. I'm saying that's the most likely explanation I have for you right now. Maybe somehow this Tony found a rip in the barrier between our two realities and came through."

Fury's face was hard and blank. Whether he thought the idea or the doctor crazy, he did not say—but it was evident at least one of those statements was true.

"We just broke so many cosmic rules," Banner continued. "We traveled through time. We co-existed with our other selves in the same time and space. We unleashed a primordial, cosmic origin energy by using the Infinity Stones twice within an hour. That's… There isn't a word yet to express how big that actually is on any scale. I mean, the scale to even begin to measure it hasn't even been invented. Who knows what doing all of that did to our reality?"

Fury huffed and rumbled his reservations at accepting the concept of multiple realities, much less hanging the explanation on the chance that there was then a crossover. SHIELD had been burned in the past by theories like that. Banner read the man's reluctance clearly.

"I agree that it's possible and that it's also astronomically unlikely," Banner offered. "I spoke with Stephen Strange at Tony's funeral about something along these lines. He knows a lot more about this kind of thing than I do."

"Dr. Strange has been consulted," Fury replied in a clipped fashion.

"Well, what did he say?"

"That he'll get back to us," Fury growled.

"He's a researcher, too," Banner shrugged. "His mystical arts aren't something you can just query in a database. There's reflection and contemplations and… I don't know, maybe chanting involved. I don't know how he does what he does. I know I don't fully understand it, but maybe that's why we need to slow down and wait for him to give us some answers."

"Not with a question like that living at my best," Fury shook his head. "Is there any reason to think more of them are going to show up?"

"More Tonys?" Banner asked. "I don't know, but I could see where that might be a problem. Just one Tony has always been almost too much for this world. Two or more at once? That could be interesting."

"If by interesting, you mean chaos, I agree," Fury said. "I don't want these turning up all over the place. And what if there's others like him? Is another Thanos going to suddenly show up in Las Vegas?"

"Vegas doesn't really seem to be his style," Banner mused. "That would be more like Tony."

Fury's single orb glare let him know the levity fell flat.

"Realities aren't like boxes that you stack one on the other," Banner said. "I don't think they're going to all come tumbling down here and spill their contents on us."

"You just used fabric swatches to tell me exactly that could happen," Fury scoffed.

"It was a bad example and an oversimplification," the doctor continued. "The way Strange explained it, realities overlap. They co-exist, but don't collide. One is never cognizant of another. They build on each other, near perfect copies with miniscule differences, but after many iterations the differences do add up. So the ones on the top, for lack of a better explanation, do not look much like the ones on the bottom; however, the layers closest together do resemble each other remarkably. Strange knows how to bend and manipulate reality. He and Wong have spent years studying it. So what I'm saying is, yes, it is highly likely that's Tony—he's probably just not our Tony. Best guess, he's a Tony from another version of our reality."

"And somehow, a passage between the two opened and that other one spit out Tony Stark?" Fury remarked with great doubt.

"I know other people have wanted to jettison him places before," Banner shrugged.

"Don't feel the need to pick up where he left off with the peanut gallery comments," Fury continued dampening the humor. "Doctor, I'm no scientist, but I'll bet I've got a better chance of winning the lottery while meeting my doppelganger as we both get hit by separate bolts of lightning on Friday the 13th at 11:11."

"Which essentially means what I just said," Banner nodded. "It's at least remotely possible. Nothing is actually impossible in the universe."

"Including dead man walking?"

"Well, he's not exactly dead or walking right now, is he?" Banner noted. "Maybe if I talked to him…"

Fury's answer was curt and without hesitation.

"No," he said. "This isn't a playdate or a reunion."

After Fury's dismissal, Banner returned to the small room that passed for a laboratory. His spot at the Avenger's former headquarters was twice the size and exponentially better equipped. Acclimating to a more bare-bones operation, at least for the time being, was the least of his worries. Ever since Fury revealed to him what Sam and Rhodes found in New Jersey, he had been torn and anxious.

Grief was not new to him. He'd lost plenty in his time. Most recently, losing Natasha had been hard. It was a dull pain that lingered and showed no signs of relenting. When he was honest with himself, he had always known he would lose her; he had always just thought he would be the one to go. She was too capable, too confident, too damn good at everything she did not to return from a mission. Yet that happened all the same.

On top of that came losing Tony.

That hurt in a different way. Tony had been the first to not treat Banner's unique differences like a plague. Cap had said he didn't judge Banner by the Hulk. That was nice, but it showed he did make a value judgement on the big guy. Nat saw Hulk as a valuable weapon but also the dark side of his life akin to the life she led before joining SHIELD. Others walked in eggshells around him from time to time, but never Tony. He was flat out fascinated by the green rage monster. He never tiptoed around the issue. He expressed admiration for the destructive force that Hulk could be.

Banner knew it was the scientist in the man. There was also the fact that Tony was a few degrees off-kilter himself. One of the team once joked (probably Barton) that it was a good thing Tony and Banner never went to school together because there would have been destroyed labs and smoking craters all over the campus. Banner had laughed mildly and vowed he would have done his best to avoid that outcome. Tony looked simultaneously disappointed and excited—sad it had not happened but eager to see what they could do to bring it to fruition. The surviving scientist sat in his reinforced chair and sighed heavily at the memory.

"That sounds like defeat," Rhodes' voice carried into the room. "Let me guess, Fury won't let you visit?"

"I'm supposed to figure out how he got here without actually talking to him to ask how he got here," Banner threw up his hands in frustration.

"He can't tell you anything more than you heard in the video," Rhodes assured him.

"I'd ask different questions than you did," Banner replied. "How is he?"

"Confused and weary mostly," he reported. "The doctor says he's suffering from some impressive form of exhaustion and acute stress."

"As a former physician, he's a cardiac arrest waiting to happen with his medical history mixed with all the confusion and anxiety he's got going right now," Banner noted. "As a scientist with a long study in forms of radiation, that concerns me too. The frequency of the energy burst that signaled his arrival and its specific resonation is surely wreaking havoc on his neuropathways."

"Causing permanent damage?" Rhodes asked.

"Too soon to tell," Banner replied. "I doubt we've got the capabilities here just yet to do that level of analysis on him. I think it's wise to keep him under close medical supervision for a while."

Rhodes nodded, not entirely hearing what he wanted—that all would be well—but accepting the suggestion as a means to make it so. So much of what had happened tied his mind in knots. He understood strategy and aeronautics. This warping and wrinkling of realities was far above his head. What got was that there was an energy wave of some sort that registered on scientific meters resulting in bringing scouts to Camp Lehigh. While the power of that wave could have unknown effects, questions about shockwaves were not foremost in his mind.

"Only one thing I care about right now," he said. "Is he Tony Stark or not?"

Banner spun his screen around for Rhodes to see the results of the rapid DNA testing. They were a positive match to that of the DNA on record for Tony Stark. The report further elaborated that the patient had every scar noted in Tony Stark's medical records, right down to the precise placement of scar tissue left behind by the shrapnel in his chest during his kidnapping in Afghanistan and later the finale removal of the metal shards.

"I didn't put it in the report yet," Banner elaborated, "but he's also got an identical residual palladium signature in his tissues from the poisoning he suffered from the arc reactor years ago. The levels are the same. If this is a clone, it's beyond any capabilities that exist today."

"So your vote is the parallel universe theory?"

"I'm not discounting it, but physics and astrophysics are not my specialty," he replied. "I got permission from Fury to pose some vague questions to Dr. Selvig. Erik said it's theoretically possible, but I can't tell him what's happened so we can't have a substantive discussion."

"But if the realities are parallel, doesn't that dictate they run side by side?" Rhodes asked. "This Tony swears it's 2018, and he just fought Thanos on Titan."

"Trauma might explain it," Banner suggested. "His last memory is waiting to die from asphyxiation after watching the spider kid turn to dust in his hands. That's a recipe to block a sorts of memories. There's also the chance that he's organically experiencing cognitive difficulties because of what brought him here."

Rhodes scoffed. He'd gone two more rounds with the man and didn't find anything wrong with his vocabulary or the sharpness of his remarks. Banner, however, had a different explanation.

"His magnetic signature is… off," he said. "I think that's what's causing his heart to skip beats every once in a while. It might be a quantum effect from stepping from one reality to another. He's basically our Tony but the world, this one, is not his. He's everso slightly off."

"Tony's always been a little off," Rhodes smiled unconsciously then sighed and shook his head. "It's hard. I'm there arguing with him, and I keep forgetting that he's not… him."

"That's the thing," Banner insisted. "He is him. Rhodes, that's Tony. In every way we can measure and quantify, he is Tony Stark. There's just these nano bits that make it unlikely that he's ours."

"Like the nano bit where we carried his body here and cremated it?" Rhodes offered darkly. "I remember that very clearly."

"So do I," Banner sighed. "Look, I'm saying this is Tony. He may not be specifically our Tony, but he was someone's. I've watched all the videos. This guy knows everything, I mean everything, Tony knew and experienced right up to 2018 when he took off after Strange got kidnapped. He even knows about the ice cream discussion with Strange and Wong. I was the only witness to that. No one else knows about it."

_Tony discussing ice cream flavors with two wizards as Bruce warned them about the end of the world? Yeah, I can imagine that_, Rhodes thought.

He also nodded at Banner's theory. Another reality sounded more reasonable than a resurrection, but he wanted the more unlikely scenario. He wanted his guy back, the one who sacrificed himself for the rest of them, because that would be a better ending to the saga. That Tony had a family. He was happy and fulfilled. He didn't deserve to lose all of that.

"So, with him being a cog off with this quantum stuff, is it dangerous to him?" Rhodes asked. "The doctor doesn't seem too concerned with his irregular heartbeat."

"Are you asking if he's dying?" Banner wondered and got a nod. "I don't know. It doesn't look like it, but we haven't begun to do those kinds of tests on him, and I'm not sure we should. As a physician, I think we should treat his symptoms so that he is in good health, but I draw the line at making him a test subject just for study. Whether we accept that he's Tony or not, he's a human being, not a lab experiment. As far as we know, he's got no enhanced physical powers."

"He talks like he's Tony, seems to think like him," Rhodes offered.

"The last time I checked, we don't lock people up or make them lab rats just because they're smart," Banner noted.

**oOoOo**

A week of medical care and ongoing questioning by several other agents left Tony in an odd mood. He wanted to burn down the compound (preferably when he was no longer in it), and he was beginning to doubt he was who he thought he was. The only thing that kept him on Team Tony was the realization that he couldn't figure out who the hell he was if he wasn't Tony Stark.

Nearly as irritating as the (occasional) identity crisis was the lack of familiar faces. Fury didn't stop by to give him the old one-barrel stare. Rhodes was MIA as well. Banner hadn't poked his head in. Cap was rudely absent as well. Tony at least expected a breeze by from Romanoff or to feel the weight of Barton's long-distant stare. So, it was with a prickly attitude that he greeted Rhodes when he walked through the door to his room, now staged less as a hospital room and more like a prison cell—just with a slightly better bed and a few medical monitors that kept Tony from sleeping soundly with their occasional flashes and beeps.

"Hey," Rhodes offered casually as he entered.

Tony was sitting on the bed examining some circuitry that he had just that morning excised from one of the machines that was no longer plugged into the electrodes attached to his chest. There was nothing special about the board or its design, it was just something to look at. His mind hadn't formed a plan for how else he might use it, but he was certain that something would occur to him. So, he was not overly pleased to have his inspection interrupted. He barely lifted his eyes at the greeting as he spoke.

"You know," he remarked, "when I was a hostage in Afghanistan, it was pretty clear why. They were a guerrilla army and wanted a weapon. I was supposed to be their toymaker. This time…?"

Rhodes sighed as he took in the tone and the cold expression on the man's face.

"It's for protection," he said.

"Whose?" Tony asked. "Yours or mine?"

"Both maybe," he shrugged. "Look, the leading theory is…"

"Oh, we're sharing theories now," Tony remarked dryly. "Which one is this? I'm not the guy from your reality but one from another realm that got somehow slingshot here? Don't look surprised. I've heard whispers. Pretty sure I saw this on a scifi film last week when I got an hour of TV privileges to the local cable access station. I only saw the first half of it, so don't spoil the ending for me. I think the woman with the tail is the actual assassin who killed the guy with the bananas for ears."

Rhodes hung his head. He'd been avoiding the room. He had a lot of reasons, most of them not great. He had a harder time than Banner with the concept that this man was Tony (basically). Banner suggested Rhodes think of him like Tony with a bit of amnesia. He was their friend in every way except sharing five years of history. That in itself wasn't a huge stretch. For the previous five years, Tony had been mostly absent from Rhodes's world. He'd been present at Tony and Pepper's wedding not long after Tony returned from Titan. Then Rhodes was on the go constantly, doing what he could to secure an insecure and traumatized planet.

That had been Nat's way of coping: sending the remaining members out to calm fears and fix what they could. Finding time for their own lives just wasn't a priority. He got a text from Tony one day the year after the wedding stating Pepper had a baby. Rhodes had known the child was on the way, but never seemed to find the time to visit his friends. The first time he met Tony's daughter was at her father's funeral.

The bite of that moment still ached in Rhodes' chest. Tony had a family. He had given up the danger, the adventure, the adrenaline rush, and the fame. He'd walked away from all of it. He'd built something simple and satisfying—what most would call an average life but that for him surely had finally been his dream existence. He'd had Pepper, truly the only woman on the planet who was his match, and he had Morgan, an adorable little girl with her father's mischievous eyes.

This man in front of him had stopped using Pepper as a bargaining chip in his discussions. Whoever interviewed him no longer got the ultimatum that he wouldn't speak until he could see Pepper. Deprivation was never a good pressure point for Tony. He was as stubborn as they come and (due in part to all he had faced in life) always figured he could outlast his opponent because he always had until he faced Thanos the final time.

"The realities thing is just a theory," Rhodes responded as the silence between them elongated. "The alternative is that you are the you from our time, but from five years ago. The problem is…"

"The problem is that time travel doesn't work that way," Tony interrupted tersely as he furrowed his brow and began picking apart the plastic and soldered metal board using a paperclip. "You can go backward first then forward again to where you started. You can't start today and jump into the future because the future doesn't exist. No fixed point to target. So, in your scenario, five years ago I couldn't have said: I want a Shawshank experience so I'm gonna leap ahead five years and hang out in Legionnaire Land. You do realize that the longer any of us remain in this asbestos and mold riddled prison that we're all gonna die of some painful lung vegetation illness, right?"

He looked up with a challenging smirk, the kind that said he was daring Rhodes to argue with him because he simply wanted to fight. Rhodes knew he did have a point. Everything they knew about time travel did state there was no way to jump into the future. As if to prove that, Tony whipped his legs off the bed and grabbed a marker from the table pushed against the wall. He began scribbling on the back of the closed door a formula that Rhodes only followed marginally. He got the gist of it. The future was always fluid and couldn't be plotted or targeted.

"Yeah, thanks," Rhodes scoffed though not unkindly. "That makes it less complicated."

"You want a simpler, more entertaining explanation, watch a scifi movie or talk to Stan Lee," Tony replied

"Stan Lee died six years ago," he replied.

"Did you look?" Tony asked. "Maybe he's around, too. It's Halloween soon, right? Maybe he and I can attend a costume party. Spoiler alert: I'm going as a dead guy."

As the anger rolled off him, he flung the marker across the room. It skipped off the table, ricocheted off the wall then rolled under the bed.

"Tony," Rhodes began.

"Wait, I'm Tony?" he gasped. "I thought that wasn't settled yet. Did I miss a memo?"

"I know this is aggravating," Rhodes plowed onward, "but you gotta give us some time. You have to agree this situation is messed up."

"Trust me, I know messed up," he replied. "Cinqo de Mayo 1992, with the Alvarez twins and that alligator in Cabo. That was messed up. Good time had by all, but messed up all the same, right? This—and I include being a prisoner when I've done nothing wrong in that—is a whole other plane of crazy."

Rhodes nodded. They might not agree on what parts of it were specifically the craziest (Rhodes talking to a dead man, or Tony trying to convince his best friend he was who he said he was). Rhodes wasn't happy about the situation either, but he felt awkward. Was he betraying his late friend by wanting to accept this other guy in his place?

"I know that you're Tony Stark," Rhodes admitted. "I just don't know if you're the Tony Stark that I knew specifically."

"Because the real me is burned toast in a box somewhere?" Tony snapped. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed," Rhodes confessed. "None of us are."

"Who is '_none of us_' specifically?" he demanded. "You? Banner? Romanoff? What about Cap? I kind of expected St. Decency to strut in and give me the once over. What about Pepper?"

Rhodes could tell the last one was the one who interested him the most. His voice grew tighter and his stance more rigid with anger as he said her name, and it wasn't her that was the source of his wrath. It was the walls that kept him from her and anyone responsible for keeping him within those walls. Rhodes thought back to the time just preceding Tony's trip to Titan. He was recently engaged and happier than Rhodes had ever seen him.

"Just give it some time," he offered in an easy tone that may as well have been a slap in the face.

"I play 20 questions with the moron squad every day over who I am and how I got here," Tony said. "I should start asking who the hell you are. My friend, Rhodey, he wouldn't do this to me. He'd have blown the doors off this place to spring me. That guy… he defied orders and spent weeks combing endless desert and mountains in Afghanistan looking for me when all the intel available to him said I was dead. So, this must be the wrong reality for me because my James Rhodes wouldn't lock me up for no damn reason. He'd never prevent me from seeing Pepper! He sure as hell wouldn't let her think her fiancé was dead when he wasn't!"

The words hit Rhodes' vulnerable spots with the accuracy of a Stark Industries weapon of old. They tore into him and burned. His friendship with Tony had been the longest and most beneficial of his life. They were brothers who would do anything to help the other. Tony specifically requested Rhodes be the military liaison to Stark Industries when others of higher rank were jockeying for the assignment. Tony had trusted him with his own suit of armor—had built it specifically for Rhodes. He'd broken off chase for Cap after the Sokovia Accords when Rhodes had plummeted to earth in a dead fall. It was Tony who got the best neurosurgeon in the world out of bed and on a plane within an hour of Rhodes' dire paralysis diagnosis, then arranged for the surgeon to have every possible tool at his disposal to try and fix the damage. Tony then built the exoskeleton that allowed Rhodes to walk again and maintain his status as an Avenger. And, as he'd reminded Rhodes not long after he first reappeared, he'd once set up the Air Force officer with a Miss America contender as a birthday gift—Rhodes and Sandi were still close friends (and occasional weekend companions when the world wasn't in chaos).

"Man, if there was any way I could…," Rhodes began.

"There is," he said through clenched teeth. "You pick up the phone. You call Pepper then you let me talk to her."

"You don't think that might freak her out?" Rhodes asked. "She sees my number and hears, 'Hey, Pepper; it's me. I'm not dead.'"

"She's gotten that call from me before," Tony argued. "Where is she?"

"Don't do this."

"You are making my head hurt," he seethed as he rubbed his temples. "If I believe what you're telling me, it's been five years since I saw her last. That's the last time I know I spoke to her she was pleading with me not to take off with the aliens who kidnapped Strange. Rhodey, you have to let me talk to her. I don't care if she's moved on, or married someone else, whatever."

Rhodes disbelieving stare pierced him and resulted in a backtracking shrug.

"Okay, fine," Tony relented as he ran a hand roughly through his hair. "That's a lie. I care. I'll be pissed and jealous, but it's eating me alive not telling her that I'm sorry. Are you hearing me? I want to apologize. I want to tell her I was wrong. That's how serious I am. Please, Rhodey. I have to talk to her!"

"Calm down," he replied. "Keeping you here and off everyone's radar are Fury's orders."

"Right," Tony scoffed and kicked the table leg, sending it scraping along the floor, "because obeying those is always such a good idea."

"Enough," Rhodes warned. "There's nothing I can do right now. I'll make his right as soon as I can."

"But not today," Tony huffed.

He raised his hands and rubbed his temples roughly. He felt a prickle behind his eyes and a hot sensation in his face.

"Look, it'll be okay," Rhodes said trying to placate him.

"I escaped from a cave in the desert once with shrapnel in my chest," Tony said as he pinched the bridge of his nose when pain began accompanying the heat sensation in his cheeks. "I'll do it again."

"Don't even think about it," Rhodes warned. "You aren't a hostage. Tony, we're your friends. We want you to be here with us, among us. We just have a lot of questions still to answer. We owe you a debt."

"Hell of a way to pay me back," he breathed hard as he as he bowed his head and grounded the heels of his hands into his eyes as he stumbled slightly into the table and braced his arm against it to keep his balance.

"Tony?" Rhodes shouted as he took a step forward and grabbed the man's arm. "You okay?"

Tony scrubbed his hand down his face. As he pulled his palm away, the distinct scent of copper filled the room and bright red splashes gushed through his fingers and down his face.

"I meant it when I said my head hurts," he mumbled as his knees buckled and his eyes closed.

**oOoOo**


	4. Chapter 4

**oOoOo**

_Camp Delta_

_Infirmary_

Tony became conscious but kept his eyes shut initially. His mind raced (_nearly as fast as my mouth, dad used to say_) as usual. The scratchy sheets (_shrapnel under the skin was only slightly more irritating_), the dank smell of cave (_yeah, that's never leaving me_), and the irksome beep following the rhythm of his heart (_it's like an off-tempo dance tune… should it do that long pause every few seconds then double up beats?_) tallied in his senses quickly.

_Still at the "prison-for-my-own-good" hotel_, he surmised.

Oh what he wouldn't give to be at Cipriani. He'd taken Pepper there two months after she agreed not to quit but to instead commence dating him. It was there that the rumors of their romance finally were confirmed with pictures. The paparazzi staked out lobbies, hotels, balconies, and (for the successful shot of them locking lips) shrubbery. She'd adjusted to the fuss like it was a regular day at the office because for Pepper Potts (the woman who'd kept Tony Stark's life reasonably in order for a decade) it was.

Tony thrust that memory to the back of his mind. Thinking of her was painful. Realizing he'd somehow managed to survive what was a suicide mission (that he couldn't recall, much like the five years prior to it) only to learn he wasn't allowed to talk to Pepper because of a little issue like being dead just made the ache intolerable.

What was also growing intolerable were the other sensations fighting past his infuriating knowledge that he was still a prisoner. There straps were on his wrists again and something sharp sticking into the crook of his elbow. It registered a moment later that it was a needle. Its purpose was a mystery as was how he would get it out with his arms restrained, but he decided to let his mind churn on that. Something would come to him.

_Why can't I have Wanda's freaky ability to move stuff without touching it?_

"May as well open your eyes," Rhodes voice said somewhere above him. "I can see you're thinking about something."

"Just trying to decide which words and what language to use when responding if you ask who I am again," Tony growled, surprised at how weak his voice sounded despite his desire to give it a menacing edge.

He opened his lids to see Rhodes, weary and worn, looming above him with deep concern in his eyes. The burden seemed to lift slightly as they stared at each other.

"Hey," Rhodes sighed. "Glad to see you're awake."

"You look like you want to kiss me," Tony said. "No offense, but not interested. You're a great guy, but you're not my type. "

"Don't ever do that again," Rhodes ignored the quip and sunk into a chair beside the bed. "You scared me yesterday."

From the empty paper cups resting in the side table, it looked like he had spent a considerable amount of time in that chair.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"You passed out," Rhodes revealed. "The doctor said your blood pressure dropped then you had some sort of hemorrhage. Man, it was a lot of blood, Tony. They had to pump in a few units to stabilize you so you wouldn't stroke out."

"So I didn't do something fun like start speaking in tongues or sprout wings?" Tony asked. "No lasers from the eyes or acid out of the fingertips?"

"No," Rhodes gaped. "Why would you ask…?"

"Then why the fuck am I tied up like I'm a danger to anyone here?" he snarled as he yanked on his arms.

Rhodes sighed and got up. He began pulling the Velcro that held the restraints in place, which earned him a puzzled glare from the patient.

"Those were to keep you from pulling out your IVs," he explained. "You had a seizure in the middle of everything else that was going on. They needed to get the fluids in you, and the only way to do that was to keep you from moving. There. Better?"

"Only if I can leave," Tony bargained.

"Sorry, man," he shook his head. "How do you feel?"

_Pissed_, was the answer he wanted to give but there was so much worry in Rhodes' face that Tony couldn't take out all of his frustration on the man… not yet anyway. _Confused_ was another answer, but he was growing accustomed to that one. There was one response that he knew would also get a negative reaction, but it was his primary rally cry since returning so he felt obligated to utter it again.

"Like I want to see Pepper," he said.

"That's emotion," Rhodes blocked him. "I'm asking physically. You nearly had a heart attack and a stroke within minutes of each other."

"Nearly?" Tony repeated. "So if it wasn't one or the other, what was it?"

"Anxiety—partially anyway," Rhodes replied. "The doctor is running a bunch of tests to see what's going on."

"Well, tell him to look deeper than an anxiety attack, because I know what those are," Tony grumbled. "They feel different."

"You didn't know what happened until I told you," Rhodes said.

"True, but trust me," Tony replied. "I'd know an anxiety attack. We're old friends, so I'm willing to bet that it (unlike you) still believes in me."

Rhodes sighed loudly at the condemnation. He'd spent the previous evening in the chair watching the patient's chest rise and fall, listening to the imperfect beat of his heart. Somewhere in the dark hours, he came to a realization. It didn't matter whether this was Tony from a different reality. He was Tony Stark, just as Banner said. Bottom line: That was good enough for Rhodes. Of course, when Tony was pissed off he could be a little bitch about whatever angered him and deserved a crown for his portrayal of the Prince of Passive Aggressive Behavior so Rhodes knew the conversation (any conversation at that point) wouldn't be smooth or easy if he showed any signs of buckling to Tony's mood.

"Enough, okay?" Rhodes shook his head. "I get it. This is a crappy circumstance so I'll give you a little leeway because you're feeling trapped in addition to feeling crappy and confused. We're all a little on edge here, okay? I just don't have the reserves to fight with you. Hell, I specifically don't want to fight. Here it is. Full disclosure: You're not a prisoner. You're in protective custody. No, you have no say in it. No one thinks you're a threat… Well, almost no one—certainly not me. It's just that we don't know what to do with you so keeping you here is the plan for now."

Tony gnashed his teeth as he bit back a retort regarding the plan. He reminded himself it wasn't Rhodes' fault. He was a soldier. He followed orders. His orders were to play Iron Babysitter. There was also the issue of the concern oozing off the man. That was palpable even in Tony's tired (an apparently weakened) state. He was worried, not about Tony but for him. The difference was slight but important. That brought a smile to his eyes if not to his lips.

_He wants to accept that I'm me_, Tony thought.

"Okay," he replied. "We'll go with that. For now. So, why are you sitting here? This whole solemn vigil thing isn't necessary. I'm not going to die… again. Not today anyway. If you've decided I need a babysitter, call Happy. He's got more experience than anyone except Pepper, and he can keep secrets about me. He's done it for ages."

Rhodes sighed and let his lack of response be his denial. Tony (apparently regardless of place of origin) could be as persistent as Chinese water torture, hitting the same spot over and over to breakthrough or find a weakness to get what he wanted. Failing that, he would just defy all structure and orders and make plans to get what he wanted on his own. That was what worried Rhodes about keeping him confined. The guy was liable to try an escape. He wouldn't get far in the secure facility with no special toys at his disposal, but that didn't reduce the threat he posed to himself. Rhodes could feel it in his own bones. There was something wrong with his friend, and it stemmed from whatever brought him back.

"Just be chill or they'll sedate and put you under stricter guard," he warned. "You don't want to be locked up for real so don't try escaping. Attempting to leave the base will look like a hostile act."

"More hostile than chaining me to a bed and threatening to drug me anytime I get pissed at being treating like the enemy?" he asked with a hint or irritation but at least as much curiosity "I wonder if this is how Bruce felt."

**oOoOo**

Bucky Barnes waited on line, keeping his head down so that the curtains of hair on either side of his face obscured his profile. It wasn't that he expected to be recognized. It was simply due to a lifetime of feeling the need to hide and be unseen. Most of the people in the coffee shop were exchanging semi-tense waves and anxious greetings with friends. From what he could tell, half were returnees and the other half were those left behind during the five year gap.

He felt lucky as a returnee. Only one person seemed to have missed him, and they'd spent more than 70 years thinking the other was dead previously so a little five year break was nothing. Not that he could say that to Steve. Actually, he wasn't sure what he could say to Steve anymore. The guy finally was nearly their actual age. When he'd gone back in time, he found Peggy after the war. She was older than him at that time, but some creative stories and document fabrication on her part made their whirlwind romance possible (if private) and allowed them the life together both always wanted.

And to think, he told me he was just going back for a single dance and would play it by ear after that, Bucky chuckled as he heard the kid behind the counter shout the name "Howard." The name was out of place and odd in the current age but familiar to him so he used it whenever he gave an order and needed to leave a name behind to ID him. He also considered it as penance for the name pained him to hear and was a persistent reminder of what he'd done. He knew he wasn't truly to blame for all the misdeeds he committed, but he considered it an exceptionally low and immoral move by Hydra to use him as the weapon to kills Howard Stark. The only thing worse was the memory of it that had surfaced in Bucky's memory once fully free of their control.

He recognized me instantly, he sighed as the piping hot liquid slid down his throat. Nearly fifty years since they'd laid eyes on each other, but that dark night on a lonely road in New York Howard locked eyes for all of five seconds and known him despite the insanity of seeing both a dead man and someone who should have been half a century older. Bucky swallowed the scalding coffee as the newest part of the punishment flashed in his mind. Pulling a gun on and nearly blowing the head off of Howard's son as Bucky escaped custody of the World Security Council. He had no idea who Tony Stark was in that moment. Bucky's memory was just coming back and that psycho Zemo had just activated his programming, but when he learned afterward from Steve who the players were and what skills they brought to the fight to recapture him, Bucky had felt even worse.

He didn't blame Tony for the way he reacted when he'd seen what happened to his parents. Bucky had felt like killing the damn landlord who owned his grandmother's apartment building when she got pneumonia from the lack of heat the winter before the war. He couldn't imagine what he would have done to the guy if he took any action to intentionally physically harm her much less how he would have reacted to watch it play as a movie so unexpectedly in front of him.

Not that any of that mattered anymore. Tony was gone, like his father, leaving a young child to grow up without his guidance. The difference was Tony's daughter had her mother. Steve said she was a good woman and Tony had provided well for them. It wasn't much consolation (hell, it wasn't any), but it was better than a total loss. He'd said as much to Steve the previous evening at dinner only to get his sage advice about not looking at it with such a dismal frame of mind. Bucky wasn't sure how to spin dead as a positive, but if anyone could do it, it was Steve Rogers—whether as venerable old man or the spunky kid who'd been his sidekick while they grew up on the rough streets of Brooklyn in the 1930s.

He was musing on those long ago days when he saw an unexpected face walk quickly into the crowded café and journey to the far corner. Seeing her startled Bucky. He did not know her, per se. He'd just seen her and heard about her from Steve. She was Nick Fury's right hand in running his operations, Maria Hill. Not eager to be caught staring or be seen himself, Bucky hung back and pretended to read some fliers pinned to the board beside the door for groups announcing their services to reunite returned people with their friends and families as well as offering job placement services for them. He pulled his baseball cap down slightly and put on his sunglasses to complete his incognito effect as he spied Hill's companion.

He was a thickset man with a suit that did not fit well but attempted to look upper end, but it wasn't his deceptive tailoring that caught Bucky's eye. It was his face. He knew it but not from where. Considering the man's age, that could mean only one thing it was someone he knew from his time as drone for Hydra.

_What the hell is Fury's second in command doing with that guy_, Bucky wondered as he decided his plans to do nothing for the day had just changed.

**oOoOo**

Banner's prediction that they lacked the technology to determine what was specifically ailing Tony proved accurate. He continued with low blood pressure issues that made it simply wise to remain in bed. For his part, Tony tried to shrug off the problem but that was hard to do when it felt like he might lose consciousness anytime his heart seemed to trip and stumble over its own rhythm. The only part of the circumstance that was satisfying was that it made Rhodes ever so slightly desperate to do something to try to help.

Which is how the Air Force colonel, against his better judgment, found himself walking into the corporate headquarters of Stark Industries in New York City in the mid-morning. He carried only a satellite phone and a flash drive on this particular mission.

Life at the multinational corporation moved along at a steady pace. No one paid him much attention after he was identified by Happy as having no-knock access to the CEO's office. Tony's former driver, now head of corporate security, got onto the elevator with him.

"How's it going?" Happy asked, looking less like his name than ever.

"One day at a time, right?" Rhodes offered without truly answering. He could feel the grief oozing off he man as he struggled to keep composed when coming face to face with one of the tight circles of people on the planet who could legitimately be called a friend of Tony's. "You doing okay?"

"No," he shook his head as he blinked back tears but kept his face passive. "But I'm here. I'm working. Pepper needs me, so does the kid."

"I was surprised Pepper's back at work," Rhodes said. "I didn't think she'd leave Morgan with anyone so soon."

"She doesn't," he shook his head. "She's had to be back at work since a couple days after the funeral, but this is just her first day back at the office. She brought Morgan with her. There's a conference room that adjoins her office. She's got it set up with toys and crayons and books for Morgan. It was originally supposed to be used as an office for Tony if he ever chose to come in."

"He never used it?" Rhodes guessed as the elevator soared higher.

"Nah," Happy smiled sadly. "Not enough toys or distractions for him, he said."

"Now that it's full of Morgan's playthings?" Rhodes wondered.

That sent the man into reluctant chuckles that it appeared he needed to let go of some of his tension. He doubled over, his chin sinking to his chest and his shoulders bouncing as he laughed.

"Still wouldn't be enough," he offered then sighed. "But he'd probable take what the kid has in there and make something that'd keep them both busy for hours."

Rhodes heard him draw a shaky breath before clearing his throat. They were saved from further discussion as the doors slid open to reveal the glass waiting area leading to the immense office with the soaring view. Happy ushered him in as Pepper came around the desk to greet him.

"Rhodey," she hugged him warmly. "Are you my 10 o'clock meeting?"

"Uh, no," he shook his head. "I was just here and decided to stop in and see how you were doing. I've been meaning to stop by the house, but things got a little crazy. I mean, nothing's wrong. Just regular craziness."

"Site cleanup underway?" she asked keeping on her professional mask.

Her face was pale. Dark circles resided under her eyes. Whether they were from crying, sleeplessness, stress from trying to run a huge company while grieving the love of her life, or simply the loss of that man, Rhodes did not know. It was likely a combination of all of them, and he felt terrible about the secret he was keeping.

"Clean up," he nodded. "Yeah, that's moving along. We've got the temporary compound set up at an old Air Force training facility a few miles from the mess. The DOD decommissioned in the 1980s so right now it's a skeletal operation, but it's sufficient. A lot to do but not much actually going on. Dumb question: How are you?"

She cleared her throat and nodded to Happy who nodded back and made for the door on the left side of the office and waved a familiar looking yellow and green box.

"Found them in the back of the helicopter," he said as he carried the crayons toward the area designated for Morgan. "Should I ask why she had to have these specific crayons and not the box that was already in the room?"

"If you want, but I'm not sure the answer will satisfy you," Pepper smiled. "Tell her that the next time she leaves her stuff behind she will go without it for the day. She owes you a big thank you for fetching those. She doesn't have servants." Happy nodded. "That last part was for you, too, Happy. You are not at her beck and call."

"You got it," he said unconvincingly then paused before passing into the next room. "Just to give you some notice: If I give these to her and she tells me she doesn't like to be handed anything, I'm going to need a few minutes in the hall to pull myself together."

"I have faith in your fortitude and her desire to just have her preferred crayons back," Pepper smiled understandingly.

Rhodes listened to their strained conversation. Both were trying to be light and supportive but the weight of their collective grief made the air heavy. When Pepper turned back to him, her eyes were glassy.

"We're functioning," she said. "Morgan doesn't fully accept that… She still thinks he's coming home. You know that I always worried that someday I would… that Tony would… I contemplated losing him more than once. Surprisingly, none of that advanced worry prepared me for the real thing. I also never expected it would result in so many meetings. I knew there would be a lot of condolences, but the number of questions and the doubt that accompanies them are exhausting."

"Doubt in you running Stark Industries?" Rhodes blinked. "You've been running the company more than 10 years."

She shook her head and returned to her desk.

"The doubt is in the news," she reported. "This isn't the first time it's been reported that Tony died. Most people don't come right out and ask if we're hiding him somewhere for a secret mission, but I can tell they wonder it from the words they use. I have nothing to say on the matter. I… I just can't. It's too much to have to say anything. I just stick to business right now. For example, I have my first full Board of Directors' meeting this afternoon. Someone there will certainly hint that they hope Tony is…." She pressed her lips tightly as a frustrated smile graced her trembling lips. "Days like this make me understand better why Tony hated talking to the Board at any time. Of course, there's a chance they'll be more interested discussing in the early quarter projections now that our stock is on an upswing following the news stories yesterday."

Rhodes was puzzled by what stories she meant. He had not watched a news report in more than two weeks. He'd spent the last few nights sitting with Tony and playing backgammon to pass the hours. It was during those sessions that he talked Rhodes into taking this crazy approach to trying to solve his health mysteries. His blank look prompted an explanation.

"Unnamed sources claimed Tony left a whole cache of projects and notes behind that will keep our research department and our engineers busy for 10 years," Pepper said. "It don't like letting an assertion like that linger, but I can't deny that it's true either."

"Did he leave that?"

"I don't know," she huffed, her familiar frustration and admiration with her husband bleed through her professional exterior. "No one can access his private server which such a thing might be. One of our programmers tried to access it in an effort to be proactive, but in doing so tripped a security protocol. Normally, I have access to everything, but it is now on what looks like permanent lockdown."

"FRIDAY can't help?"

"FRIDAY is housed primarily in the restricted sectors so FRIDAY is inaccessible as well," she explained. "No one knows how to break this security encryption to get to any of it. The best minds in my programing division tell me it's written in a programming language no one has ever seen so it technically doesn't exist. It seems he encrypted the code that encrypts his private programming code."

"Let me guess," Rhodes hung his head. "Tony created the codes but didn't leave behind a Rosetta stone to translate it?"

_It made sense he wouldn't_, Rhodes thought silently.

Tony only recorded his final message to family and friends in case the time jumps went badly and he did not return, but deep down he trusted he would make it back from that mission. He knew his equation worked; he trusted the science. So they did make it back. Their time hopscotch was successful so he likely didn't think twice about his future. When they returned to their present time, Thanos had been dead for five years, ever since Thor took the man's head. There was no reason to leave breadcrumbs behind in case of his demise because, once returning from his trip to the past, Tony didn't think his life was in danger.

"Nothing we've found so far is helpful," she answered, again with admiration wrestling with angst. "I've put our top programmers on researching all of Tony's accessible work going back as far as his MIT days to look for clues or keys to this programming language, but I don't actually hold out much hope. Not that we need to get into his private server. Or, I should say, we don't know that we need to get into it, but right now everyone is wondering what's on it."

Rhodes nodded his agreement on the lingering questions it did pose. Of course, knowing Tony, it could be nothing. The ultra-protected server could have a 1990s era computer card game on it just to mess with anyone if they ever spent time trying to break into it, or just the design specs on how to build Dum-E. Rhodes repeated those suspicions to her. Pepper nodded slowly.

"Part of me suspects that," she relented a weak smile. "Then again, it could hold something important that we should know or would like to see."

From the tremor in her voice and the eagerness hiding in her eyes, it was evident she held out hope that there might be one last message from him. Rhodes hated using that anticipation to further his mission, but she had teed up the opening he was not sure how he would finagle any other way.

"Maybe I can help," he said.

"I don't think so," Pepper shook her head. "I mean, maybe you can, but I'd rather not let SHIELD try to break into Tony's private space. He would never allow that. I'm sorry, Rhodey. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I don't trust most of them."

He nodded and gave her his easiest most reassuring smile.

"I understand, but I was talking about just me giving it a try," he said. "Maybe I can guess his password or figure out how he got things locked up so tight. You do trust me, don't you?"

She sighed and patted his arm reassuringly making his stomach sink with self-loathing while his pulse quickened with anticipation. She took a tablet off the desk and her phone.

"Of course, I do," Pepper replied then waved at the laptop on her desk. "Feel free to try if you've got the time, but our team is certain the password is actually controlled by a voice trigger, Tony's voice specifically." Her own cracked on that reveal but following a quick sniffle she recovered. "Recordings of his voice don't work. The system realizes somehow it's not a live voice, which spawns an error. It's something about the frequencies not being authentic. Our team consulted the developmental cyber language department at MIT about it, and they estimate the world of programming is two generations away from understanding how he did that."

"Yeah, that's the problem with geniuses," Rhodes offered with a grimace at his duplicity. "They make life difficult for the rest of us."

"Sometimes for sport and entertainment," she added.

As she spoke, she glanced at the photo on the corner of her desk of her husband sitting in his basement workshop in Malibu, staring at something in front of him dissecting the problem before with his eyes as a slight impish grin graced his lips signally he had the answer. She pressed a button on her phone that close the door to Morgan's area and explained Happy would be watching the little girl while Pepper was meeting with the European division heads in another conference room thus giving Rhodes freedom and privacy in the office.

**oOoOo**


	5. Chapter 5

**oOoOo**

Rhodes waited five minutes after Pepper left departed her office before feeling secure enough to make a call. The line on the other end rang twice before being answered with such irreverence that he began instantly regretting this plan.

"Supermax," Tony replied. "To which illegally detained prisoner shall I direct your call?"

"With a choice between you and a phone tree, I'll take the computer," Rhodes sighed.

"I prefer computers, too, which is what brings us together on this mission," he said.

"It's not a mission," Rhodes hissed. "I'm just trying to help you."

"Grudgingly."

"Don't be a dick and lay off the comments about what kind of help I'm giving you," he huffed. "I'm not supposed to help you at all. I could end up in a real cell for this."

"How?" Tony asked. "You say I'm not a prisoner. Ergo, this isn't illegal."

"Stuff your ergo," Rhodes groused. "I'm breaking into a private company's server. That's illegal."

"It's my company and my server so really all you're doing is complaining and delaying me accessing proprietary technology that I both created and own," Tony noted.

Rhodes sighed deeply and grumbled.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he said.

"I can't believe you can't believe I did," Tony remarked. "I do this to you all the time. Where are you?"

Rhodes rolled his eyes at the arrogance and accuracy of the comment but let it slide. This was not the time or the place to get into a tit for tat argument about whether Rhodes had a history of buckling to Tony. There were plenty of instances when he'd gone against his friend's wishes; he just couldn't remember any at that moment. He was also starting to sweat, which was not encouraging considering what he did for a living. If a little mostly innocent perusing of a computer system was going to turn him into a nervous wreck, he needed to consider attending counseling like Sam suggested.

"I'm in Pepper's office," he eventually answered. "I'm putting you on speaker."

"Is she there?" Tony asked.

"No," he replied. "That's why I can put you on speaker. Now, let's do this fast so I can get out of here. From what Pepper just said, this isn't going to work. The security on the server needs a live voice."

"Not dead," Tony informed him.

"I think it means live as in right here in the room with the system you're trying to access," Rhodes grumbled.

"You're not actually in the room with the server," Tony said. "That would be ridiculous, talking directly to a… Uh… Huh."

Rhodes smirked, certain it had just occurred to Mr. 217 IQ that talking to computers was essentially what he did most of the time when he worked. Offering a dig at who sounded and looked stupid in that moment was tempting, but what Rhodes wanted most was just to get into the system and gain access on his phone to FRIDAY's diagnosis abilities to see if she (it?) could provide any helpful insight into what was making and keeping Tony sick.

"I think what you're worried about is that an average phone only allows the mid-range hertz to travel over the lines or through cellular waves," Tony diagnosed, "but you're using more sophisticated satellite technology with your phone—by the way, you're welcome for that."

Rhodes shook his head at the man's need to mention one of his inventions. Tony wasn't precisely bragging, but he was incapable of not adding the footnote that he developed the technology that he gave the Avengers' phones, which were un-hackable (so far) and worked literally everywhere, even in locations where there was no discernible signal. Rhodes now had another upgrade to his device as of that morning. It now had the equivalent of hi-def for audio transmittal after Tony fiddled with it and added an app he created specifically for that purpose.

"If I get caught because you tampered with my phone…," Rhodes began.

"It was my phone first," Tony said. "I gave it to you guys that tech. All I did to yours was tweak the original operating system that I created and give it a little boost. It's not tampering so much as it is improving. Besides, to get caught, they'd have to figure anything was done to it."

Rhodes could hear him smiling but chose to ignore it. Instead, he asked for instructions for how to proceed. As it turned out, all he needed to do was make sure the telecommunications port was open and active on Pepper's laptop. One click and that was done.

"Don't do anything tricky," he warned. "You said you only need to open something small and inconsequential so I can upload this program on the flash drive. Let's be clear, I'm using my definition of inconsequential here. If I get even a hint this isn't working or you're messing around, I won't upload anything and I'll hang up."

"You've become a buzz kill," Tony scoffed then cleared his throat before speaking again. "Hey FRIDAY, wakey wakey."

"Seriously?" Rhodes groaned at what he was certain was just another round of screwing around. "You want me to believe that will…"

But his doubts died on his lips as the system responded promptly and pleasantly with the slight Irish accent.

"Good morning, Boss," FRIDAY replied. "It's been a while since you last checked in."

Rhodes whispered 'holy shit' as Tony commenced his discussion with his artificial intelligence platform.

"Sorry about that," Tony replied. "I've been dead apparently. Give me the Zoom Directory."

"Tony," Rhodes warned. "What is that?"

He sighed heavily at the continuing doubt then addressed the system, asking it to provide the purpose and parameters for the summoned files.

"The Zoom Directory," FRIDAY replied, "was created in 2002 at the request of Happy Hogan to compile a listing of your automobiles, their specifications, and maintenance schedules. The directory is currently archived and has not been accessed since 2013. Boss, as it's been more than a week since you last accessed the system and you are not signing in directly from the access point being used as an interface, I'm required to ask for a passcode."

Rather than be angered by the roadblock, there was a lilt of happiness in Tony's voice as he heard the request.

"That's my girl," he said. "Still following the rules Daddy taught you. Good job. Passcode is 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster."

Rhodes scoffed.

"You mean to tell me, your super-secret password that no one can figure out is the year, make, and model of a hot rod?" he asked.

"Sometimes the best security is not overly technical," Tony noted. "Oh, and it's more than just the passcode blocking those coding neophytes from getting in, nor is it just any hot rod. It's a beloved yet lost one. It went into the ocean with my house in Malibu. I rebuilt the engine on that car with my father when I was 10. It's one of the few things we ever did together."

The sting of the remark made Rhodes wince. Tony's relationship with his father was one of the few off-limits topics for conversation. It seemed that no matter what reality, Tony's life was the same. It also seemed Tony heard the sharpness in his own voice because he pivoted expertly to a tangential subject.

"Maybe I should rebuild it again if I'm going to be trapped here for a while," Tony mused.

"Would you like an inventory of parts, Boss?" FRIDAY asked.

"No, not yet," he replied, saving Rhodes the trouble of stating the secret compound was not going to start receiving UPS special deliveries for Tony's entertainment.

"Very well," the computer responded. "What else may I do for you? It's fortunate that the headlines regarding your death were inaccurate."

"That's nice to hear from someone finally," Tony said.

"You have over five thousand messages waiting for you," she stated. "Most of them express doubt or worry that you have perished. Now that I have confirmed you are alive, shall I respond to their dismay with assurances or merely employ the Circular File Protocol?"

"Tony," Rhodes jumped in, "no contact at all. Don't even ditch the messages. It'll show someone accessed your server if someone else manages to get in."

"Drats, you figured out my evil plan," Tony teased. "Do you drive around in a groovy fan with a hottie, a nerd, a stoner, and a talking dog now?"

"I've been called a lot of things in my life, this is the first time I've been compared to white dude in an ascot," Rhodes shook his head. "You're really a pioneer, man."

"Well, I'm dead," Tony offered. "And now you're calling me a pioneer. Is this going to turn into the Donner party? Is that why the doctor has me hooked up to these tubes? Is someone planning to eat me like in a horror flick? Great. Now, I sound like Peter."

"The messages, Boss?" FRIDAY prompted.

"Let's put them on hold for now," he replied. "We're going to upload a new transfer protocol. I want it fully activated with total access to my biometrics."

"On it, Boss," she said. "Ready to receive."

Rhodes took that as his signal to plug in the flash drive. He did so with a slight hesitation. There was a chance Tony was doing more than access data for the sake of his physical health, but when it came down to it, Rhodes didn't think he had another choice. His friend was ailing, and this might be the only way to make him better. If there were other consequences, he would deal with them later.

"Hey, Rhodey?" Tony interrupted his reasoning. "Are you going to tell Pepper you got into the system?"

That question had bothered Rhodes from the moment he agreed to run with this scheme. He didn't like lying to her. He didn't like deceiving her. They'd been friends for a long time and (until recent days) shared the heaviest grief over the loss of Tony.

"I don't know," Rhodes answered. "I obviously can't tell her about this."

"We're gonna disagree on the _obviously_ part," Tony remarked. "If you insist on keeping me a secret, you'll need a lie that's not actually a lie to satisfy her. Want my help? I might be good at this."

"You're not," Rhodes assured him.

"But I am," Tony insisted. "I've lied to you a dozen times—just not recently—if I'm the me who you know. Did you follow that?"

"Oh yeah, just like the Tony I knew never fooled me," Rhodes argued. "I always knew when you… when he… when one of you was not being straight with me. Of course, it's more accurate to say that Tony Stark usually didn't bother to lie because he always thought he was right or justified no matter what he did."

"Wow," Tony replied. "That's a little insulting… and overly accurate. Okay, how about a veiled-truth for Pepper then. Say you didn't have the skills to get in because you're inept at this stuff."

Rhodes scoffed as he clenched is jaw and glared rather than curse at the phone laying on the desk as he stated (unnecessarily in his mind) that he was not an idiot but an expert in advanced aerodynamic ballistic strategy and aeronautics.

"Which means you have zero skills at exploiting a vastly superior computer security system," Tony offered.

"Yeah, okay, Mr. Genius," Rhodes relented. "I'll tell her I couldn't get in. That meet with your approval?"

"Oh, come on, Rhodey," he chided. "You need to sell it. It needs a little more flair. Tell her that you, realizing your ineffectiveness and inability to stand toe-to-toe with a great master of his age in impenetrable coding for…."

"In how many realities do you think that you're this much of a pain in the ass?"

"If they're lucky, all of them," Tony answered plainly.

The response elicited a chuckle from Rhodes. He'd walked into that one and despite the foolishness of it, he was oddly pleased by it. Hearing the remark also made his chest ache with the confusing tension of missing his friend and feeling that he was truly just at the other end of the phone.

"Fine, so I tell her I'm a dunce," he offered.

"Don't be hard on yourself," Tony said. "Say you were out-paced in cyber linguistics. It's much classier, and it lets you keep a shred of dignity. It also has the virtue of being true."

Rhodes shook his head as he smirked. It was as if no version of Tony could help himself. It truly put the question of nurture versus nature up for debate. However, he had to admit that the answer would cover enough of the truth to let him look Pepper in the eye again… probably. Keeping this secret from her felt like the ultimate betrayal, but she was trying to put the pieces of her life together while she navigated the crowded waters of grief—her own and that of an adoring world population who were openly mourning a fallen hero.

"Upload complete," FRIDAY said. "Transmittal commencing."

"You better not have done something you didn't tell me," Rhodes warned as he removed the flash drive.

"No," Tony vowed. "Scouts honor."

"Man, you were never a scout," Rhodes countered.

"Au contraire," he argued. "Any of this ring a bell: Senior year, MIT, wet tee shirt contest talent scouts on St. Patrick's Day? You got your ear pierced by a dwarf."

"Son of a bitch," Rhodes exclaimed. "You were never supposed to mention that again."

"The talent scout or the ear?" Tony asked. "Maybe it was the other me who made that promise when that waitress at Angelina's told you that…"

"The ear was totally your doing," he snarled.

"A suggestion only," Tony said. "You made the decision."

Rhodes groaned and rubbed his temples as he prepared to launch into a lecture. But he halted as another voice joined the discussion. It was small, insistent, yet polite in a curious way.

"What happened to your ear?" Morgan Stark asked as she appeared from the doorway between her playroom and her mother's office.

Rhodes head shot up and his eye nearly popped from their sockets. His hand darted for his phone and took it off speaker then muted it. Morgan cocked her head to the side as she stared at him.

"Hey there, Morgan," Rhodes said. "Remember me?"

"You're Mr. Rhodes, mommy and daddy's friend," she said.

"I am," Rhodes replied. "You're very smart to remember that. What are you doing in here?"

"Happy had to go to the hall because his eyes got red," she replied as she remained in the doorway. Her own dark, inquisitive eyes narrowed as she looked around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking at your mom's computer," he replied.

He was saved from further discussion with the child as Happy appeared. He apologize for the interruption then coaxed Morgan back into her allotted space in the adjacent room. The child threw a questioning look over her shoulder as she departed but finally waved and offered Rhodes a grin before the door closed firmly.

He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed with relief. The last thing he needed was that little girl hearing her father's voice on the phone. She'd spent most of the gathering after the funeral with her mother, Happy, or that kid, Harley, who Tony had mentored remotely for years. Morgan looked confused by the number of people at her house that day and kept searching the crowd, no doubt looking for the one face that could not be there. Rhodes looked at his muted phone again and sighed.

Considering that Tony had no idea the girl existed, avoiding any overheard conversation had also saved Rhodes the trouble of having to lie to the man at the same time he sidestepped permanently scarring a sad little girl whose memories of her father were going to fade until someday all she had left was a hologram recording of him saying goodbye to her.

There simply was no apparent upside to the current course of events. What at first seemed like a miracle in getting his friend back in some way, seemed to grow more painful and problematic as each new day and new restriction appeared. Rhodes returned to the phone with his throat tight and his eyes misty.

"Hey man, you still there?" he asked.

"Someone came in?" Tony guessed. "I didn't know the voice. Sounded young. Pepper got a new assistant?"

"A lot of new things in Pepper's life since you last remember talking to her," Rhodes replied.

"Right, change the subject so we don't have to talk about your only act of rebellion in an otherwise blameless life," Tony chided. "Didn't your mother's church group pray for you after she saw your piercing?"

"That was not funny," Rhodes countered, glad Tony had steered the conversation out of troubled waters even if it was to an embarrassing memory. "What I remember most was being amazed we weren't arrested when those cops busted the party at the hotel. I couldn't believe you would…"

"Offer monetary encouragement in exercising a lenient interpretation of the criminal statutes?" Tony interrupted. "I let them join the party and made a generous donated to the police benevolence fund. You know, that was my first act of philanthropy."

"No," he corrected. "That was bribery."

"I was young and impressionable," he insisted. "I was also innocent under the law since I was only 17."

"Innocent?" Rhodes scoffed as he turned away from the computer. "You booked the rooms and threw a party for half the senior class."

"Which is why I felt compelled to take care of everything after the police crashed the party," he replied as though paying hush money was perfectly normal and beyond question. "If they had busted everyone, you'd have lost your scholarships and your ROTC standing. Half the tech firms in the country would have lost their new blood since one with us would have passed a future background check with an arrest record. Instead of a ruined future, you got a great story that you refuse to tell anyone. Oh, and you had that lovely diamond stud earring, which you later used as a tie tack."

Rhodes felt his face grow warm. He did in fact use the piece for that when he was in civilian attire and was required to wear something that required a tie. The last time he wore it was at Tony and Pepper's wedding. He shook his head to avoid mentioning that memory.

"We're done here," he said. "I'll just send Pepper a message saying I couldn't have cracked your passwords even if I had a million years to try."

"So you're going to ignore the story I gave you and go with full truth just not full disclosure," Tony surmised. "You better hope she never finds out. She gets mad at stuff like that."

"I can hear you grinning," Rhodes charged.

"Let me talk to my fiancée, and I'll be smiling at her instead," Tony replied.

"She's not your fiancée," Rhodes said.

The words came out more sharply than he intended. He was tired and irritable. He was under stress and he had just had conversations with everybody in the Stark family—all of whom wanted to talk to and see each other—and he was the one enforcing distance between them. There was no way to spin it. It was a rotten thing to do to people you cared about.

"Sorry," he said eventually. "I didn't mean it like it sounded. Honest. You still there?"

"Yeah," Tony replied in a voice heavy with defeat. "You're right not telling Pepper about me."

"What do you mean?"

"It just hit me," he replied. "Even if I'm the me from here, which apparently I can't be because that guy is charcoal, but if I was, then I'm the me of five years ago. It's like you said: a lot changed. You're adamant so that tells me those changes are substantial. It stands to reason that I don't belong in her life since I didn't live those five years with her. I don't even know if the other me lived those years with her."

"What are you doing?" Rhodes asked. "Is it a ploy to make me drop my guard and tell you something I shouldn't?"

"No, it's me surrendering to the logical choice," Tony replied. "By the time you get back here, FRIDAY's new program should be working. I'll talk you through how to use the equipment in this room to talk to FRIDAY through your tweaked phone."

"You don't sound as eager as you did when you got this idea," Rhodes noted with concern.

"Not really as interested in anything much right now," Tony replied.

**oOoOo**

Morning meetings were a mixture of concern, optimism, and condolences. As she suspected, there was doubt that Tony was dead. Mostly it was the denial phase of grief, she determined. This time was different from previous suspicions of his demise. She considered a credit to the impact Tony had even on a company he generally ignored and investors he mostly detested that they desperately wanted to hear that it was all a rouse.

Once back in her office, she looked at her personal messages and saw one from Rhodes admitting defeat in hacking the system. He also promised to call her soon and to not take so long before visiting.

"Well, it was a long shot," she said aloud.

"Good afternoon, Miss Potts," FRIDAY said. "May I do anything for you?"

Pepper jumped backward in her heels at the unexpected greeting and question. She looked around the room for reasons she could not explain then looked at her laptop. The screen was unchanged, the simple Stark Industries landing page.

"FRIDAY?" she asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How did you...?" she puzzled. "He did access you?"

"Mr. Stark never closed the Zoom Directory after reviewing it," the computer replied. "I am awaiting further instructions."

"What?" Pepper marveled as she sat down and turned to her laptop for any indication for how she was able to speak to the administrative personality that governed Tony's AI protocols. "What is Tony's old car file doing open? When did he leave that open?"

The question was meant to be rhetorical for Pepper was merely talking out loud to herself. However, ever helpful and living up to her name, FRIDAY provided an answer.

"At 10:12 this morning," she replied.

"How is that possible?" Pepper questioned. "Rhodey's message says he couldn't gain access."

"Colonel Rhodes did not access the system," FRIDAY said. "The boss did."

"The boss?" Pepper repeated as her eyes opened very wide. "FRIDAY, who is the boss?"

"Mr. Stark," the computer responded promptly.

"No, he couldn't have," Pepper argued. "Recordings of his voice were insufficient in all other simulations to obtain core system access and wake you up."

"That is correct, Ma'am," FRIDAY informed. "I have multiple protocols to prevent unauthorized access by anyone other than the boss to my specific sectors of his private server."

"Then how did Colonel Rhodes do it?" she questioned.

"Colonel Rhodes did not access me," FRIDAY replied helpfully. "Access was gained remotely by Mr. Stark. Would you like to hear the session?"

Pepper sat back in her chair and looked accusingly at the laptop as though it has just begun to curse at her.

"You record what happens in my office?"

"Mr. Stark endowed me with a redundancy protocol that automatically records all keystrokes, directory viewing, and adjacent voices whenever the system is accessed from a remote device not previously authorized for use on my matrix," FRIDAY reported.

"You don't recognize my computer?" Pepper guessed. "Does that mean someone tampered with it?"

"No, Ma'am," FRIDAY explained. "I am referring to the remote device that was used at 10:12 this morning in conjunction with the recognized interface of your laptop."

Pepper felt disoriented. Rhodes had lied to her—blatantly. He had gained access through some secret means and had apparently come to the office with the intent of doing so. The only thing that rivaled her sense of betrayal was her feeling of shock.

"Okay," she commanded the computer. "Play it all back."

Pepper held her breath through most of the replay. Or she thought she did. She wasn't entirely sure. Nothing made sense. She was listening to what was eerily like her husband's voice talking with his best friend just two hours earlier in her office. All logic dictated the instant explanation was impossible. That left more nefarious and deceptive answers. Each one her mind conjured soured her mood more and raised hints of fear in her chest.

The recording ended and FRIDAY asked if she wanted to delete the file. Pepper declined. She sat very still at her desk with her mind whirling. She wasn't sure what she should do: call the techs to allow them access now that FRIDAY was awake and amendable to exploring her directories, call Rhodes and demand an answer, or… She wasn't sure what a third option was, but she figured there must be one but that it eluded her.

Her breath kept hitching in her chest. Oddly, her eyes, although stinging, did not drip a single tear. She wasn't sure if that was because she had cried so much in the previous few weeks that she was simply unable to spare even a drop of saline or if she was simply too numbed by other emotions that the anger and shock she was feeling were simply not penetrating deeply enough to merit any. Before she could think long on that possibility, Morgan raced into the room waving a piece of paper marked heavily with bold, colorful strokes

"Mommy, I drew you this," she said as she pushed the drawing at her mother.

Pepper focused on the artwork. It was two stick style figures, one small and the other tall, standing at a table with a large gray and red cross-shaped object between them.

"Tell me about this," Pepper said rather than try to guess what it depicted. Morgan always preferred to tell her precisely what she drew than leave it open to any interpretation.

"That's me and Daddy," she replied, pointing to each figure. "That's my plane he's going to build me so can fly it over the water. Where is he? I heard him."

Pepper sighed and kicked herself inwardly for not making sure the door between the offices was closed before listening to the recorded session.

"Morgan, he's not here," she said calmly. "You just heard a recording of his voice. It wasn't really Daddy."

"Oh," the child replied but looked unconvinced if her mother read the brief contraction of her eyes correctly. The telling factor would be if she returned to her questioning in a few moments. "Do you like your picture?"

"I love it," Pepper praised her. "Do you think I should keep it here at the office or should this one go home with us?"

Morgan chewed her lip as she gave it some thought. There were several of her drawings in frames on the opposite wall. She tilted her head like she was trying to see if the pattern needed that specific drawing. Pepper's throat grew tight as she watched the child. In moments like that, Morgan reminded her mother greatly of her father.

"This one goes home," she said eventually. "That way Daddy can see it."

"Morgan," Pepper began but did not get to finish as the child chimed in with a question.

"Mommy, what's a wet t-shirt contest?"

Pepper sighed and closed her eyes as she pressed her lips together tightly. _Tony, if you were here right now I would…_, she seethed internally but exhaled those feelings. Instead, she opened her eyes and forced a smile on her face.

"Nothing you ever need to mention or think about again," she informed her daughter as she kissed the top of her head. "Let's go have lunch and then Mommy needs to call someone."

"Is it Daddy?"

"No, sweetie," she said firmly but without anger just like the specialist in childhood trauma told her to do. "I can't call Daddy. We've talked about why."

"Why can Mr. Rhodes talk to him but we can't?" Morgan sighed. "It's not fair."

"Mr. Rhodes can't talk to him either," Pepper said. "What you heard earlier was a computer simulation. It's like how your stuffed rabbit, Shannon, can read books with you."

"'Cause it's recorded?" Morgan remarked and received a nod. "Can Daddy read books with me like Shannon?"

"No, baby," Pepper said stooping to scoop her daughter up in her arms hoping the hug she would receive as well as give would help her own tears disappear. "I'm sorry. He can't."

"Okay," Morgan sighed. "I can wait until he comes home."

Pepper knew she should instantly follow the therapist's instructions and correct Morgan's impression that her father might still come home, but it just hurt too much to say it yet again.

**oOoOo**

As the autumn afternoon began to fade, Barnes weaved his motorcycle through the midtown traffic and wedged it into an alley a few doors down from where he watched Mr. Bad-Suit-For-A-Coffee-Date disappear. He walked down the street and around the corner and found a back entrance into the building in question. There was barely average security on the place. He made his way to the lobby and found a convenient directory pegged to the wall. There were several law firms, an architect, an accounting firm listed, but those names didn't trigger anything for him.

But one name did.

Mason Osborne.

The firm had an innocuous name: Mason Osborne, Ltd. Bucky knew the only thing limited in Osborne was his conscience. He was someone who would do anything for a profit. For that reason, he'd helped Hydra on several occasions as long as he was paid and paid well.

"Oh Mason," Barnes said as he shook his head as he walked away from the elevator and toward the stairs to the upper floors. "What are you doing now?"

**oOoOo**


	6. Chapter 6

**oOoOo**

Mason Osborne's door was slightly ajar when Bucky arrived at his floor. There was no one else in any of the office along that hallway. There were, however, voices coming from the one in the corner. Bucky made his way stealthily there. He had no plan, per se. He was just going to listen for a moment then bust in and have a chat with Osborne, maybe threaten him a little, before demanding to know what he was doing talking to a SHIELD agent.

Osborne was not an actual part of Hydra. He was a contractor so whether he knew about the organizations downfall or what side Bucky was on was doubtful. Bucky figured he could use that to his advantage. Negotiating was never his strong suit nor was verbal persuasion, but he'd never had trouble rolling heads when he needed—even before his shots of super-juice made him a nearly unstoppable assassin.

He paused outside the door and heard snippets of a discussion with whomever was in the room with Osborne.

"Look," Osborne groused, "I did what I could. I asked for some information. I can't demand it. That's not how it works. Give me a little time. You've kept me waiting for five years."

"You think I'm being unfair?" the voice, cold and hollow like a fresh grave, remarked.

"I think you've got a hard on to kill someone for cheap revenge," Osborne scoffed. "That's your problem. You're too hung up on history. Me, I prefer results. I don't care who I have to go through to get them, but in the end it's never personal. With you, this is. It's unprofessional."

"I want something," the man replied. "Stark has it."

"You're mad because you lost your company, but you haven't figured it out yet," Osborne laughed. "It's not the company you miss. It's the power it gave you. If you'd listen to me, follow my lead, you could get that back. Forget what you're planning. Abduction for ransom or whatever it is you want, that's amateur. It won't end well."

Bucky heard the words and a fire was lit in his chest. Years of training, the kind that made him dangerous, tingled in his muscles. The words Stark, abduction, and ransom were like a new deadly mantra for the super soldier from Brooklyn. He did not know Tony's wife or his daughter, but it seemed fairly obvious what was being plotted. Someone in that room aimed to kidnap one or both of them for a pile of money. Howard died on his hands; Bucky nearly killed the man's son then watched him die after he saved the universe. There was no way he was letting someone ruffled a single damn hair on that man's surviving family. The wife seemed like a class act at the funeral and the kid was cute. Bucky made up his mind then and there to rearrange the features on the face of the man planning to hurt them while snapping at least 30 percent of his bones. He'd throw in an ass kicking for Osborne too, just for good measure and a bit of penance for past deeds.

So without further recon or pause, Bucky burst into the room.

"Mason, you and your friend are about to have a very bad day," Bucky announced.

Osborne dove under his desk. Experience told Bucky the man was going for a gun. Rather than to wait to see, he flipped the desk over and flung it into the wall where it crashed and turned into kindling. True to form, Osborne had a pistol in his grip.

"Yeah, that's not helping you," Bucky said as he snatched the gun as it fired.

The bullet was easily cupped in the palm of his vibranium hand then dropped to the floor. Bucky then planted his foot in Osborn's chest, sending the man to his knees where he began to wretch as he dropped the weapon. To make sure he didn't try firing it again, Bucky gripped one of his wrists and snapped it backward, obliterating the bone in Osborne's forearm.

He then turned to look at the man's visitor fully for the first time. He was oddly still during the exchange. He stared back at Bucky with the hint of a smile on his thin lips. His eyes then shifted and lingered on Bucky's mechanical appendage.

"My, my," he said. "Aren't we some kind of freak?"

Bucky look at the man wearing what was essentially a silver leotard. He blinked and chuckled as he took in the man's appearance then shook his head.

"Takes one to know one," he replied with a simple shrug then raised his vibranium arm to take a swipe at the man.

To his dismay and shock, the indestructible arm did something it had never done previously. It passed entirely through the man before him. Which is not to say he had never imbedded his previous steal appendage into a man's gut in the process of terminating him. What happened this time was different. It passed through where the man stood, like he had simply become vapor. As Bucky reeled from what he'd just seen, he stumbled forward then felt himself moving at too rapid a rate with no means to slow himself. He was then propelled by the hands pressed against his back toward the windows.

He never his body strike the glass. Normally, windows in a high rise did not burst into mere unattached splinters so easily. They were tempered glass and even when shattered should have remained fused sufficiently to keep him from falling out of the building, but his arm proved problematic. The strongest metal known to man pierced the glass and removed all safety precautions built into it. He instantly felt the fading light of the day and the crisp kiss of wind at that height.

His last thought as he began a 10-story free fall was that he should have never stopped for coffee that morning.

**oOoOo**

Peter Parker had never heard anyone commit suicide. He'd never seen anyone murdered.

He did seen people assault others and rob them. His night patrols, ones he hadn't quite got the urge to do yet. Since returning from… wherever he'd been for the last five years and since the pitched battle that left him with a hollow spot in his heart, seeing anyone was not really on his list of things he wanted to do. In his past, he'd seen people attack one another, even watched someone very dear to him get killed in front of him, but normal everyday violence was not something he was used to seeing in broad daylight. He'd missed the crosstown he needed to take to get from school to his new apartment—he'd forgotten he and Aunt May had moved because he was so distracted lately. So, when he passed the dreary building on his way to the next bus stop, he was barely paying any attention but something caught his eye.

He could have sworn he watched a guy swan dive off the building. His first instinct was to simply stop. He did that and shook his head, feeling the hairs on his arms stand up, which let him know something very-not-normal had just happened. He wrestled briefly with whether he should look down the alley. No one had screamed. No one called for help, but that wiggling feeling in his chest wouldn't stop.

Peter sighed, puffing out his cheeks almost indignantly as he turned on his heel and walked toward the place where he thought he saw a large object plummet toward the ground.

He arrived to find the alley empty. There was no body on the ground. No sign there ever was one either, but Peter's senses told him his eyes didn't have the whole picture. He looked up and sighed as he wondered whether he was now imagining things. He wasn't sleeping much or very well when he did. His dreams were chaotic and kept bringing him back to seeing Mr. Stark on the battlefield—not the joyous moment when he hugged Peter and looked relieved to see him again but the end when radiation from the infinity stones stopped his heart.

His eyes flooded with tears as he shook his head to physically toss out the memory, but it clung to his thoughts. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and refocused on the empty alley. He wondered if she should pull on his mask and ask Karen if there was anything her sensors could detect, but he couldn't.

Just the thought of crawling back inside the suit, the gift Mr. Stark had given him, made him ache in a way he found hard to describe. Mr. Stark was gone. All Peter had left of him was a nanotech suit, and Peter found that as hard and cold as a frozen skin of iron.

**oOoOo**

Pepper managed to hold back on calling Rhodes for several days. Flying off the handle was generally not her style. Years spent as Tony's executive assistant taught her patience and the value of taking a breath before reacting to anything.

So rather than demand an answer from Rhodes, she listened to the recording from his visit several times, formulated her questions, and determining her greatest concerns. She also devised a contingency plan to bring legal action against whatever remained of the Avengers organization of it was determined any proprietary information was accessed or stolen during Rhodes's visit. It pained her to think someone she considered a dear friend was at the end of that accusation, but she had suffered a great loss recently and that had hardened her.

She waited until her team of programmers assured her there was no evidence anything was taken from the server. This assurance was shaky for Pepper from the team that was not able to access the secured sectors on their own previously. Worse still, one of them again tripped a trap and sent locked down the server again. FRIDAY had gone silent again; losing contact with the AI felt like losing another part of Tony… again. She did not use the AI the way Tony had, but talking to the AI again, even if it was just a computer generated voice running on an algorithm, felt normal for just a moment.

Normal was in short supply in Pepper's world.

So, to keep the matter from becoming something that bled all through the office, Pepper made arrangements to have her assistant invite Rhodes to the house for dinner at the end of that week. True to his word of remaining in contact, he arrived at the set hour. He looked nervous and contrite as he entered.

"I'm glad you called, or your assistant called," Rhodes nodded as he looked around the curiously quiet and empty living room. "Where's Morgan?"

"Happy took her into town to get cheeseburgers," she reported.

Rhodes nodded but thought it odd Pepper would have an evening free and take dinner with him rather than do something relaxed and normal like taking her daughter to dinner. Odder still was the rigid carriage of Pepper's body, as if every muscle in her was taut and ready to pounce. Rhodes had known her for more than two decades, and this mood was one he could not even guess.

"Hey," he began kindly, "is something wrong?"

"Yes, definitely," she snapped. "What the hell were you doing? Who was on your phone the day you broke into the system at my office then lied to me about it?"

He was stunned to silence, but her trembling (obviously from both rage and betrayal) broke his spirit. It made him feel even worse than he already did—a sad and worried feeling stemming from the defeated air that hung around Tony since Rhodes had gone to the office and accidently persuaded Tony to stop seeking to see the love of his life. Rhodes had seen Tony heartbroken over a breakup with Pepper in the past, and for as much pain as that caused the guy, he had always maintained hope that they could work out their problems. Seeing Tony Stark without any hope regarding Pepper Potts hurt Rhodes nearly as much as watching his best friend die on the battlefield. The hurt in Pepper's eyes just piled on that ache and made the pain even sharper as Rhodes knew he was the cause of the anguish both of his dearest friends were suffering.

"Stalling won't dissuade, and don't lie to me," Pepper commanded though her voice shook as Rhodes remained silent. "FRIDAY recorded everything that was said in the office that day. I've listened to the recording many times. I want a straight, full answer: Has SHIELD developed technology that captures the human voice in its natural entirety to the point it can fool FRIDAY, or do they have something of Tony created that can do it?"

"Not exactly," he shook his head and saw red bars form in her cheeks as her anger rose. "We do have a means to… recreate a human voice."

"Wet T-shirt contest talent scouts?" she prompted.

Rhodes sighed and hung his head. There were many reason why he made Tony promise years earlier never to mention that escapade to anyone, ever. While he never could have foreseen this would be the awkward circumstance he wanted to avoid, it was the awkward sort of discomfort Rhodes had wanted to avoid.

"That was nothing," he shook his head. "It was something that happened years ago and…"

"It was you and Tony in Boston being horny college students," she finished. "He told me all about that it years ago."

"He did?" Rhodes nodded aggressively and twisted his head to crack his neck in frustration. "He was never supposed to mention that, not to anyone."

"There was very little Tony kept from me," she asserted. "At our wedding, he made a comment about your tie tack. I asked him about it later, and he told me the whole story. Here's my question: If you didn't want anyone to know that story, why did your man on the computer know it? Rhodey, what is going on?"

Pepper folded her arms aggressively as her expression remained as flat as her tone. She wanted answers and Rhodes knew his future friendship with her hinged on whether he gave them to her, and she believed what he said.

"A lot," he said honestly. "But I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"No," she refused with a firm shake of her head that had such control that it was no wonder why she was still the CEO of an immense corporation after so many years. "_I'm sorry_ isn't going to cut it. You managed to burrow into Tony's secure serve then someone simulated his voice well enough to get root directory access to his most private storage space. What are you up to? And how could you lie to me? Is SHIELD spying on us? Am I under surveillance now?"

Rhodes shook his head and did his best to assure her that was not happening. He tried simple answers like having an expert in Tony's life and the type of responses he would give in a conversation. Rhodes also pleaded once again that there were more complicated issues in play that he was not permitted to divulge. He felt wretched with each excuse as his shoulder drooped, and his chin began to dip in shame.

"I deserve better than your weak excuses," she said eventually. "My family has given a lot, and I've asked you for very little."

"Pepper, I swear that no one is stealing from you or going to exploit anything that was Tony's," he vowed. "This is just a close-hold situation, more classified than anything else I've ever done—ever."

"Then let me follow your lead on keeping secrets," she said. "I'm locking down our servers, cutting the power to Tony's private server specifically, and disconnecting all cables and mother boards, or anything else that looks like it keeps the damn thing functioning. If I have to, I will personally go to the server farm and take a hammer to it myself. After I have confirmation that FRIDAY's space is officially dead and cannot be revived, I'm calling the press to accuse the Avengers of…"

Beyond the bad PR that would plague the Avengers if Tony Stark's widow accused them of acting in bad faith toward a fallen hero's family, Pepper's actions could prove detrimental to Tony. After gaining access to FRIDAY's systems—something Tony assured Rhodes no one would detect as he had double blind pathways to enter his own server—there were finally greater details known regarding what was happening to the man physically. His EKG's and his blood test results were fed into what FRIDAY already knew about Tony Stark, and her findings were more detailed than what the doctors at the facility had been able to determine. The AI didn't know what was wrong with him, but she was signaling that his issue was at the cellular level and not a simple chemical imbalance that could be treated with routine medications. Rhodes worried that cutting FRIDAY's out of the diagnosis process might be detrimental to Tony.

"Please don't do that," he begged.

"That answer just makes me think you lied to me about whether you're still nosing around in places that are none of your business and is all the more reason for me to do it," Pepper said. "You're not giving me a choice, Rhodey. You know me well enough to know I'm not bluffing. So either give me straight, full answers, or I make the call to do it right now if you don't tell me how you got into the server."

Rhodes knew he was beat.

There was no way to win. She was going to cut off what Rhodes was beginning to believe was Tony's lifeline—or at least his only chance of finding one. The sound of the guy's irregular heartbeats on the monitors plagued Rhodes when he tried to sleep, and the sight of all the blood that gushed out of the man in his last seizure was enough to keep the battle-hardened airman from even wanting to sleep. Those things didn't normally bother Rhodes, but watching his friend (or the guy who looked and sounded just like him) suffer through them changed his perspective. It left Rhodes just one more door, a problematic one, that once opened would cause even more heartbreak and confusion, yet it seemed like his only option.

"It's Tony," he admitted. "Tony got me in. His voice. His knowledge. All of it. It was him."

"You have some hyper accurate means to project his voice?" she questioned. "What was the plan? Break into his server and steal his work?"

"No," he shook his head and offered her his sincerest voice and most earnest expression. "I don't have a special program. Pepper, I have Tony Stark, an actual living guy, at our new base just north of here."

**oOoOo**

Consciousness was a tricky thing. You wanted to have it when you needed it, but you dreaded it when it would be painful.

That was the quandary Bucky found himself in. The fall would have been fatal any normal human being, but he'd given up a claim to that qualification decades ago. Of course, it was that very reason why he was around to be awake if awfully damn sore.

When he fell, he had nothing to grab onto or to slow his descent, so he did the only thing possible to survive: position himself to receive the least amount of injury. He had to hand it to the Wakandans. They knew how to make a prosthetic. His vibranium arm absorbed most of the impact, getting damaged in the process and leaving him with a mild case of whiplash and a hell of a bruise from shoulder to hip where the blood vessels broke from the pressure his landing.

He'd swiftly, instinctively, dragged himself out of that alley within seconds on impact then stumbled back to his bike. He got it around the corner then fell off when he passed out while slowing down to avoid a dumpster. All in all, he considered it a successful escape. After all, he still had all the parts he came into the mission with and he left under his own power.

The problem was, once he woke up beside his motorcycle, he didn't know where to go. He had to tell someone what he heard. Stark's widow and child were in danger. He wasn't sure anyone would believe him, but that wasn't a good enough reason not to try sounding an alarm. And if no one believed him, he'd just make their protection his next mission.

The urge to call Steve and pull him into the mess was strong, but Steve was no longer an option. He was truly an old man now. Sure, he was nowhere near as limited as someone his age would typically be, but there was no denying he had a lot of years on him. He might be able to function more like a man in his 60s than one over the century mark, but Bucky needed more support than that.

That left him with only one logic choice, a man who detested him but who Bucky trusted because Steve did. He kick-started his bike and moved into early evening traffic while hoping Sam Wilson was home and still awake when he arrived at the guy's place. It was one thing to ask a man who couldn't stand him to help. It only got trickier if the guy was pissed at being woken up or having his evening ruined by the interruption.

**oOoOo**

Fury's right eyebrow lifted high enough to shift the strap on his eyepatch upward as well. Rhodes stood in front of him, head held high, but feeling a little tremor in his bones. Confessing what he had done—the computer hacking assistance and revealing Tony's existence to his widow—was a tough decision but the right one to make. He was certain of it. What was uncertain was whether he'd make it out if Fury's presence alive.

"You did what?" the man gaped.

"I told her," Rhodes said. "I know you think it was wrong."

"I _think_ it was wrong?" Fury repeated. "We're sitting on the greatest secret in the world today, and you just walked into his widow's office-defying orders to say 'hey, just so you know, we've got your dead husband in a room playing backgammon."

Rhodes nodded and held his ground. He also held his face in check. Word from the guards keeping watch over Tony was that Fury paid him a visit the previous evening. While there, Fury got either talked, goaded into, or himself proposed a match. Whatever triggered the game, Fury lost. Rhodes didn't feel sorry for him nor was he surprised at the outcome. It was always a losing proposition to sit opposite Tony Stark when there was a backgammon board on the table. The undefeated MIT champ had never lost a game as far as Rhodes knew. Although it had always been one of his own personal bucket items that he would one day play Tony and win, he wasn't fool enough to think that would ever happen.

"I had to tell her," Rhodes insisted. "And ever since I did, I think we were wrong not to tell her in the first place."

"And?" Fury prompted. Rhodes shrugged, unclear what the man sought. "Well, what is she going to do now?"

"She wants to see him," he replied. "She knows he's not our Tony. I explained about the multiple realities theory and how we think that's how he got here. She still wants to see him."

Fury nodded and stroked his chin. He glanced at his computer screen. Rhodes could not see it and did not know what the man viewed, but it captured his attention for a long moment.

"What does she hope to gain by seeing him?"

"I don't know," Rhodes answered. "I think this might be an attempt at closure. She's offended that this guy knows enough about Tony to get into his computer system. Maybe it's the anger phase of grief. I told her about the plan to relocate him off-world. She didn't object. In fact, I think she feels like it's the best thing for everyone—particularly her and Morgan."

Sending Tony away was the latest strategy for how to deal with him. It was generally agreed that turning him loose to resume the life of Tony Stark on Earth was not possible, particularly with the world still reeling from some many returned souls thought dead for half a decade. Add to that who he was and the knowledge he possessed, it was an equation for trouble. The suggestion that held the most favor currently was getting in touch with Carol Danvers to see about finding a suitable world other than Earth for the man to live out whatever remained of his days whether that was merely weeks or would stretch into decades. Away, where no one knew about the great Tony Stark, was the best place for him.

Fury rumbled about the facility not existing for grief counseling or family separation issues. Rhodes nodded and remarked that he told Pepper her request stood no chance. However, he felt he could look her in the eye finally and be fully honest. He had tried his best to put forth her request. It was simply beyond his abilities to make it happen. So he was shocked by Fury's next order.

"Alright," he said. "Set it up."

"Set what up?" Rhodes asked.

"Arrange for her to see him," Fury replied. "He doesn't need to see her, but we can get her to see him. Look, we need Stark Industries. We can't have that line of support cut off. She's in a position to do it. I think we can trust her to be a woman of her word whether it's to make good on her threat to go to the press and reveal what she knows if we don't appease her or to keep her word about remaining quiet if we give her a few seconds to see the guy. Grab some video of him sitting in room bothering his guards with his chatter. That should satisfy her. Or am I wrong about trusting her?"

Rhodes shook his head. Pepper was as honest as they came. She would give her word, would sign non-disclosure agreements, and keep secrets if she said she would.

"So if you're okay with her getting a look, why did you just chew me out for telling her any of this?" he asked. "You're taking my head off because he's the greatest kept secret in the world at the moment, but now you're just gonna let her walk in here and take a peek. Sir, what aren't you telling me?"

Fury eyed him silently for a moment then sighed. His motives were always being questioned, and it didn't bother him to a point. Blind adherence to command could create problems. There were plenty of reasons to question him in the past. He didn't consider it a lack of trust or faith in his direction so much as character on the part of his operatives.

"Nothing I haven't said from the start," Fury replied. "I only care how he got here if he's a threat to us. Everything I've been told so far tells me he's not. So, let the woman see him."

"Just like that?"

"Did I stutter?"

**oOoOo**

Agent Hill left the control room around the same time she saw Fury close himself off for a private discussion with Rhodes. There were a lot things going on behind closed doors at the base lately. She didn't mind. That was just part of the business, much like her current role.

There were some people you encountered during life that changed it thoroughly. You were tied to them, irrevocably. You kept secrets for one another, even when they pained you—even when you knew you didn't have the full story. There were deceptions between friends even at times when your obligations called for it. There were times you had to get down into the mud and belly crawl with the worst of the bottom feeders.

That's where she was as of that morning.

She didn't like it, but like was not a part of the equation for her. Duty. Obligation. Those were her buzzwords. Those were the only foundation for her actions now. Feelings were irrelevant.

So, with her game face on she made her way toward the infirmary in search of the base doctor. There were questions that needed to be asked and answers that needed to be obtained as she had a new mission to fulfill.

**oOoOo**


	7. Chapter 7

**oOoOo**

**_Camp Delta_**

**_6:00 AM_**

It was a good day.

Tony woke up (no penlights in the eyes with someone questioning him on his identity), knew where he was (in "protective prison"), and he didn't find any new needles in his veins or new medical equipment hooked up to him. He was still confined to three rooms: sleeping quarters, examination bay, and the nondescript room where he played backgammon against anyone interested in a sound beating. That room had a radio piped in, but it went dead anytime there was a news report (including weather updates). There was a TV but all it pulled in was the local access station that only seemed to show D-rate scifi movies in the afternoons and infomercials the rest of the time.

Tinkering had always been Tony's truest escape. No amount of travel, wild parties, high-stakes gambling, or adrenaline rush activities ever calmed his nerves the way putting a tool in his hands to fix or build something could. Failing that, computer access to write code and create or exploit another system were a close second. However, he wasn't even permitted a remote control for the TV. Rhodes' assurance that he wasn't considered a threat felt thinner by the day.

But Tony put that out of his mind. He had a project that day. Whether it was sanctioned or not, he did not care. Doing something forbidden would do wonders for his anxiousness, but just having something to take apart and put back together was going to be the best medicine any doctor could proscribe.

One of his watchers (they always assured him there were there for his protection rather than acting as guards) asked for help with an old motorcycle he inherited from an uncle. Sergeant Oliver "Ollie" Reynolds was built for the paramilitary life. He liked standing still and waiting to hit or shoot anything that approached aggressively. What he was not good at was anything that didn't involving subduing as part of the operating. He confessed his ineptitude with all things mechanical to Tony. He could load any weapon but putting gas in his car was the limit of his automotive expertise. He'd been reluctant to speak to Tony at first. It wasn't hard for the captive to diagnosis a touch of intimidation, but once Tony got him talking the bike woes entered the discussion. After days of prodding, the ailing bike was coming into the building to get tune up by the resident mechanic.

Tony got to the room and was pleased to see a table laid out with a few dozen tools, mostly socket and box wrenches of varying sizes. Considering the tools were in such a deplorable state, he figured they were Ollie's personal kit. The other thing Tony noted was the addition of two cameras in the corners of the room. He rolled his eyes and smiled at one then turned to the other and gave it the finger.

_Best to tell them the truth and keep them guessing at the same time_, he thought as Ollie wheeled in a dusty, rusted two-wheeled contraption showing years of neglect. Tony gasped and clutched his chest at the sight.

"Ok, first thing: get handcuffs," he said. "Now."

"Cuffs?" Ollie asked. "For what?"

"You!" Tony snapped and quickly knelt beside the bike as he began grimacing while running his hand over the engine flanks like a medic performing delicate triage. "This is… murder. Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Yeah, an old motorcycle that doesn't work," Ollie replied but stepped back at the ferocious glare he received.

"This isn't just any old motorcycle," Tony scoffed as he grabbed a box wrench and began removing parts. "This is a 1937 Crocker small tank twin. There are maybe 25 known still in existence—or that's what there were the last time I was allowed contact with the outside."

"Really?" Ollie gaped. "So if it's rare, does that mean you've never worked on one?"

"No, I actually have," Tony said becoming engrossed in the parts in front of him. His hands moved with machine-like precision, cranking on rusted bolts to loosen them without snapping them as he began stripping down the ailing bike. "My father had one. He told me I wasn't allowed to even breathe near it."

"You just said you worked on it," Ollie questioned. "How'd you do that if he forbid you to touch it?"

"Not allowed and prevented aren't the same thing," Tony shrugged. "I took his apart when I was 11."

"Did you get in trouble?"

Tony's response wasn't verbal. It was an unconscious smirk. The memory wasn't a pleasant one in many ways. His father lost his mind when he entered the garage at the family home in Long Island to find his prized bike scattered across the floor, yet Tony could not find it in him to be sore about the altercation any longer. He wasn't sure why nor did he feel like thinking about it longer. Instead, he lifted his dark eyes and issued instructions.

"Get me coffee—real coffee from something other than a vending machine," he said. "While you're at it, fetch me something resembling a blueberry muffin and find a better radio station than this crap they've been using to torture me."

**oOoOo**

**_Camp Delta_**

**_7: 00 AM_**

Rhodes rubbed his eyes as he pulled up the latest recorded video from the surveillance cameras. He was tired of watching the various interactions with Tony. First off, because they were mostly things he already knew and watching them again made him weary. Next, because in most of them, after watching from a detached third party position, he agreed with Tony's assessment. He was a prisoner. He wasn't treated badly, but there was no denying he had no freedom, but there was an air of suspicion around him during most interactions.

His latest viewing pleasure was that of Tony and one of his guards. The guy was in his late 20s and had started the detail in a cool and detached way initially. He accepted who he was looking after and showed zero signs of being enthralled with his charge. When Reynolds was first chosen for the assignment, he admitted to admiring some of Iron Man's accomplishments, but he also said the public persona of Tony Stark never impressed him. Reynolds couldn't see what the fuss was about someone who the press courted and who came off as an arrogant prick whenever he was on camera.

However, after spending considerable time in close company with said prick, it was evident Reynolds' tune had changed. Rhodes had suspected it would. Tony had a Svengali effect on a lot of people. He made converts of them into his cult of personality or made enemies of them. His guards, starting with Ollie Reynolds, had flung themselves headlong into his fandom that Rhodes was starting to wonder whether the guards worked for the Avengers or were private security under Tony's control.

The reason for those question was obvious to anyone who watched the recordings of them as Tony worked on the man's ancient motorcycle. Reynolds stuck close, watching all his movements, and chattering to him like a schoolkid telling his older brother all about what happened at school that day.

"It's not that I couldn't have gone to college or anything," Reynolds said as he stood beside Tony holding the man's coffee like a servant. "I just couldn't see the point back then of applying. I was always more of a hands on guy. My grandfather was a veteran so I joined the military when I was 18 then I got hired by private security when my first enlistment was up-they paid more and had better equipment for the same work. Doing this for a living made more sense to me than sitting in a classroom racking up loans. I wasn't good at sitting at a desk so much and listening to a teacher drone on. All through grade school and high school, everything I heard was just a lot of blah, blah, blah to me. So much of what they wanted us to do was just memorize stuff that was pointless like…."

"If you say algebra, I'm going to hit you with a ratchet," Tony said in a mildly detached way with his eyes glued to the head gasket he was examining.

"No, I mean things like: What are the three types of rock?" Ollie reported with a scoff. "Who knows that?"

"I do: classic, punk, and hard," Tony said still focusing on the part as he grew agitated and glared at his companion. "Do you get that you're standing in the worst possible spot here? If I call you Dum-E at any point during this, know that it's a term of endearment because you remind me of my lab assistant. So, take two steps back or I'm going to start thinking of employing percussive management on you."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to hit you," he said slowly firmly. "I need space. Don't hover. Get rid of that coffee, and find me some coaxial cable so I can tie that pitiful radio you brought here into those pipes above us."

"What for?" Reynolds asked but began moving to follow the order all the same.

"A better antenna," Tony replied. "The static on that thing is making me nearly as irritable as that coffee, your failure to grasp personal space, and being a prisoner."

Rhodes watched the exchange from a small office several hallways away. He made a few notes on the discussion then focused, purely out of interest, on the pathetic excuse for a motorcycle the two men were working on. People might typically associate Tony with his mind-blowing advanced technology, but his first experience in engineering was building engines, and it always remained a passion of his. He liked to make things go fast. He wondered if Ollie Reynolds had any clue how fortunate he was that Tony was his mechanic. Not that he could ever tell anyone, but if the two managed to rehabilitate the bike before a final placement for Tony was found, the man would have a one in a million bike on his hands.

Rhodes stopped the recording when he was satisfied he had a long enough clip to show Pepper. He purposefully avoided the recordings of the interviews (which Tony kept insisting were interrogations) because they were intense and confrontational at times. He didn't want to show any segments from the footage of Tony's room because most of those were interrupted with medical procedures. The last thing Pepper needed to see was Tony spewing blood or having a seizure. Letting the guard bring in his bike had been Fury's idea to get some usable recordings for Pepper as well as give Tony something to help him lower his stress levels. The doctor was certain half of the problems he was experiencing were both caused by and exacerbated by stress. FRIDAY's assessment (an analysis the doctor did not give much weight to but was forced to at least consider) was different, but neither the AI nor the doctor had a diagnosis or cure yet so stress was the latest accepted theory.

He supposed it would shock most people to learn that Iron Man suffered from issues like anxiety and post-traumatic stress. The world only saw the results of his successful confrontations with a series of bad guys or Tony's shit-eating grin at press conferences and in exotic locations looking like he had the world on a string. Rhodes knew the truth. His friend had been damaged by circumstance and a world that adored him for his bad ass and bad boy moments but really didn't truly care for who he was at his core. It was unfortunate, Rhodes sighed, because the stuff the public never saw was actually the best of Tony but that too was ding up pretty badly at time by the events the nearly overwhelmed him.

Unlike Rhodes, Sam, Cap, and Nat, Tony had never been trained to do what he did. There was no instruction given to him. No mentoring or coaching for how to do it and get through it. No formal boot camp that taught both performance and survival after the deed was done. The guy wasn't a soldier. He was an engineer and scientist, a geek who was simply too cool and secure to hang out with only eggheads. He was a billionaire playboy one second then (without warning) he was a hostage fighting for his life. Rhodes always found it poetic and telling that Tony's solution to surviving thereafter was to encase himself in impenetrable metal. He only came out of the protective cocoon when he felt ready.

"You got what you need?" Hill asked from behind Rhodes, sending him spinning in his chair as he turned off the monitor to prevent it from being viewed.

"What are you doing in here?" he snapped. "That door was closed."

"It was open," she corrected. "Fury sent me down here to look for you. He said to ask if you had what you needed."

"Yeah," he said cagily. "I think so. I wasn't aware you were working on this."

She shook her head and shrugged.

"I'm not exactly," she admitted. "I'm just following orders, asking his question and bringing him back your answer. So do I tell him affirmative?"

Rhodes narrowed his eyes. He was certain the door was closed, but he could not honestly recall hearing it open. Hill was Fury's right hand, his mole even within organizations he trusted. When she worked for the Avengers, she was still reporting secretly to Fury. He sighed and then nodded. He had something innocent yet prickly to show Pepper. It would be a shock for her to see the video and hear his voice knowing it was recorded that week, but there was nothing in it that would hurt her otherwise. This was Tony being edgy and wanting space while he worked—never a pleasant mood to be around, but it was one she would recognize and that would hopefully satisfy her.

**oOoOo**

_**Sam Wilson's Apartment**_

_**7:35 AM**_

"Okay," Sam pinched the bridge of his nose after listening to the story Cap's one-armed friend had spent the dark hours shoveling at him. "You recognized this guy from when you were the bad guy, so when you saw him getting coffee you decided to play private investigator and stalk him. Am I getting that right?"

"Yeah, your comprehension amazes me, too," Bucky sighed from where he slumped in a hard, metal chair at the small table in Sam's tiny kitchen. "What I said was I know this man is always up to something that's bad news because he worked with Hydra, but feel free to make it simpler if that helps you."

Sam huffed. Bucky was mouthier than he recalled. Sam himself didn't have any recollection of where he went when he disappeared. He wasn't sure if it was the same for everyone else. Considering the bats that lived in Bucky's belfry already, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Hearing the dude spin him a tail about a white collar criminal with a lot of dirt on his hands who formerly worked with Hydra (despite not knowing it because he do business with anyone who was paying him enough) and was now hooked up with some super dude in silver spandex planning to kidnap Tony's family was enough to make Sam wonder if Bucky had finally lost his grip on reality.

"Did you figure this whole thing out before or after you were thrown out of a build and hit the ground really hard?" Sam asked. "That might be important."

"This isn't a concussion talking," Bucky groaned as he slouched with aches from his skydiving without a chute. "I'm telling you this because it happened; it's real, and you're in a position to do something about it."

"Yeah, get you some help," Sam shook his head. "Look, Pepper Potts has her own security. Tony was a billionaire. They've got people trying to snatch them for ransom all the time. It's a private security matter. I get feeling a debt to Tony because of what that happened with Thanos but not everything that might go wrong is our job to prevent or fix. Other guys can look out for that family's welfare. We're about big picture. This (if it's real) is small. We lookout for tidal waves. This is a jaywalking incident by comparison. I know that sounds cold, but it's true."

Bucky scoffed. A rich person being a target for crooks trying to get money for nothing was small time when compared to the fate of the planet—he agreed on that. Whether it was okay to simply ignore it when they saw it was something he'd agree to disagree about. Granted, he knew he was close to this in an odd way. He felt a debt to Howard Stark, a friend from a long gone age who perished at Bucky's own hands. Bucky felt compelled to repay that devastating debt. The woman in danger was Howard's daughter-in-law. Although she never met the man, she gave birth to Howard's only grandchild. That little girl was last living Stark descendant. Calling it a small thing just didn't fit with Bucky's view of the situation, particularly when looked at with what he knew about the players. Private security was no match for a man who could make his body visibly and physically transparent. Sam might have a point that he didn't protect individual private citizens normally, but this scenario was hardly normal.

"What about Fury's person?" Bucky prodded. "She spent 20 minutes with Mason Osborne. There's no way that was innocent."

"Maria Hill is the definition of loyal, especially to Fury," Sam insisted. "Trust me on that. Look, you don't know her. You must have mistaken someone else for her."

"I didn't," Bucky shook his head and got up. "Just so we're clear, when this whole thing blows up, I came to you first."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that if this turns south, it's not because I didn't try to get your help stopping it," Bucky replied. "You've got a point about regular civilians not getting special protection, but you're wrong when you say this isn't big picture. I guarantee you that this guy has bigger plans, and those will be a threat to a lot of people."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.

"The right thing," Bucky replied as he left the apartment.

**oOoOo**

**_Camp Delta_**

**_Three days later_**

Pepper arrived at the base with Rhodes several days after issuing her demand to see their captive/guest. Her stated reason was simple: What she knew worried her. They were not an official military force. They answered to no civil authority. They had no jurisdiction to hold anyone. They were also criminally liable for bypassing the security of her company. While her anger and distrust of them was high, what was less evident was her displeasure at the actual man at the center of the problem. If Rhodes was correct, it was not the man's fault that he ended up in their world but that did not mean he belonged there either. Her husband had earned a better end than fate dealt him. She did not want someone else waltzing in and simply snaring it because of irrefutable DNA. There was more to a man, she insisted, than his chemical makeup.

She walked with her chin held up and her face expressionless as Rhodes showed her to the small viewing office in a remote corner of the base. She saw very few personnel there. Rhodes explained this was a restricted section and only those specifically cleared to know what was kept there had access. Pepper nodded at the seclusion factor then took a seat in the windowless, dank box where there was only a laptop computer situated on a folding card table.

"This was recently recorded," Rhodes said as he accessed the video. "You can see for yourself he's not tortured or a prisoner. He's just annoyed and bored."

He activated the computer to play back the approved recording. The screen rolled and was black for a few seconds as sound came through initially. When the picture finally appeared, it took Rhodes several seconds to notice that it was not the clip he isolated for her. Instead, it appeared to be showing the live feed.

In the room, Tony was at the table that faced the wall. Several gear parts were laid on in front of him as another of his guards, Greg Benton (who, like Reynolds, was behaving more like a member of Tony's personal entourage each day). Benton stood an arm's length away from Tony watching patiently as he tinkered with Reynold's motorcycle parts.

"Wait," Tony paused in his work. "You got busted for having sex in a car? I'm not going to ask the obvious question of why didn't you just go to your place or get a hotel room. I just want to grasp the facts here. The police raided Lover's Lane while you were parking it on Easy Street?"

"Yeah," the red faced guard said and scoffed as he got a disbelieving stare. "Her father is a state cop. He doesn't like anyone she dates. He knew she was going out with me that night so he put out a BOLO on my truck claiming it was stolen."

Tony dropped his head to the table as he shook it side to side in a pitying fashion. He then turned his pitiable gaze on his companion and sighed.

"Greg, you're an idiot," he observed before returning to the metal puzzle on the table. "Let's just agree on that upfront as part of this whole reverse Stockholm Syndrome I'm cultivating here, okay?" He received a nod. "So _Operation Coitis Interuptus_ occurs. Then what?"

The dejected security specialist then bemoaned getting dragged into a station house, detained, and questioned before being released when the badges put together what was really going was an over protective father with a hate on for every man who ever looked twice at his 23-year-old daughter. Benton told Tony that he waited until the next morning to text his date apologies, yet three days later she still had not responded to him despite sending her what the thought was a charming make up suggestion.

"Hold on," Tony interrupted the tale. "You apologized to her in a text for getting arrested because of her father's professional malfeasance, and then told her you'd do what?"

"I told her I could bring her my C that night if she wanted," Benton smiled.

"Does '_bring my C_' mean what it sounds like it means?" Tony asked bluntly. "Because giving her that is what got you arrested."

Benton choked on the question, which triggered a realization that about what had wrong in his reconciliations attempts with the girl.

"No," he huffed. "C stands for canoli. We have a joke about canolis because she took one off my plate the night we met. I just used the initial because it was a text. Damn it! Do you think she didn't realize what I meant and thought I was referring to my…?"

"I'll go out on a limb here and say it's definitely possible," Tony shook his head and sighed. "Speaking as someone who's messed up by saying the wrong thing to a woman before, you are screwed, buddy—and not in the fun way."

"Do you think I should text her again?"

"No, I think it's stunning that they chose you to protect me," Tony groaned. "Still, you've made a breakthrough here about your inept communication style so there's hope for you. I expect good things from you someday—and never any Italian pastry. Are we clear on that?"

Back in the viewing room, Pepper had gone pale as the feed dropped once Rhodes hit the magic combination of keys to sever the connection. Pepper blinked. Her throat was dry, and her heart was racing.

"That's not what you were supposed to see," he apologized. "It was supposed to be a recording of him talking to one guys about a motorcycle. I'm sorry, but you can see that we're not mistreating him. If anything, he's torturing us in his own way."

She nodded, not really hearing him. Her mind was fixated on the conversation she just overheard. There was a living, breathing man with Tony's face, his voice, his speech cadence, and his mannerisms nearby. There was a knot in her stomach trying to crush the butterfly feelings that erupted.

"Has he agreed to go to another planet if you can find one suitable for him?" she asked in a voice that sounded controlled but foreign to her own ears.

"We haven't exactly asked him," Rhodes admitted. "I'm not sure if he'll get a vote in the decision."

"What if he wanted to stay?" she asked. "Would he be allowed? Would he have any freedom? Would you let him be Tony Stark and just step back into that life again?"

Rhodes shrugged. What would freedom mean for someone who inherited the legacy of a martyred hero? His best bet would be to find some out of the way place, like in Kathmandu, and hide from the world for his own peace and sanity. That thought made Rhodes consider a new option, one requiring the help of Stephen Strange.

"Is there anything else I can watch, just so I am fully convinced?" she asked.

"I have two recorded clips cleared," Rhodes reported. "You can see those, but they won't tell you anything you didn't just see and hear."

She looked at him expectantly so he fiddled with the keyboard a bit more and finally got the videos he intended to show her queued up. He then made a quick call that resulted in a muscly, steely-eyed man dressed in a uniform identical to the one in the room with Tony arriving at the small office. Rhodes asked the man, someone named Ollie, to remain with Pepper while Rhodes stepped out to make another phone call. The younger man nodded then placed himself at the door, filling the exit with a wall of bone and muscle.

"You don't need to stand there," Pepper shook her head. "Colonel Rhodes just wanted to make sure I wasn't alone in case I needed anything, but I don't need company."

"This is a secure facility, Ma'am," he replied.

"And I was granted access by Nick Fury," she countered. "You know who I am. My company funds at least half of the high tech gear used in this facility. Do you think I'd be here watching all of this if I wasn't already considered cleared and not a threat? I'm certain you have better things to do than stand here and watch me watch a video. You can go about your business. I'll shout if I need anything. Colonel Rhodes will be back in just a moment. If all of that is not enough for you, then please realize that I'd rather be alone right now."

She spoke with such confidence that he was taken aback. Her words and focus on the computer screen were a dismissal. Reynolds could not argue with her logic or the facts she presented him. More than that, Rhodes didn't have the authority to give him a new job. His orders were to oversee Tony's security. Benton was in the room with him at that hour. Their duties were covered. So, Reynolds nodded and stepped out of the room then walked down the hall and toward the locations where he had intended to be when Rhodes summoned him: the men's room.

Pepper waited several seconds as the video began to play. She heard a sharp remark deriding another the guards for poor upkeep of a motorcycle, but she paid it no attention. What she noted was the position of the sun through the small window in that room as well as the time stamp on the video. It was dated that week—a week that had dismally overcast skies everyday but one, and even then the sun only shown a bright orange for 15 minutes just before it set. That same glow flared on the wall behind Tony as he chatted with the bike owner. That told her wherever he was stashed, the room faced west. From what she recalled upon entering the base, she needed to walk down a hall somewhere on the right. She got up from her chair and marched out of the room quickly finding one such avenue. The faint sounds of music filtered toward her as she rounded another corner so she quickened her pace in that direction.

**oOoOo**


	8. Chapter 8

**oOoOo**

Music spilled through the open doorway into the barren concrete hallway sending the pulsing sounds of hard rock ricocheting off the barren, stone walls. Tony sat with his back to the open portal, intent upon removing the rust and grime from the parts laid out before him. His father's bike had been meticulously kept though never actually used in Tony's recollection. Taking it apart was merely a curiosity exercise for him back then. This time, with this bike, it was a rescue mission. The more build-up he found on the parts, the more dismay he felt so that when he sensed Benton (or Heckle of the Heckle and Jekyll duo who watched him around the clock) had returned from his meal run, Tony uttered the decision that had been brewing in his brain all day.

"Greg, I've decided Ollie doesn't get to keep this bike," he said without turning to face his visitor. "Legal ownership is not justification for leaving this thing of beauty in a barn for 10 years to suffer. It's unconscionable. I don't forgive him and more importantly, this engine doesn't forgive him. They have souls of their own. He's hurt this one, and there has to be a penalty for that."

"Souls?" Pepper asked in as normal of a tone as she could muster with her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. "Since when is Tony Stark spiritual?"

He looked up from his work at the sound of her voice and instantly dropped the parts from his hands. He spun slowly on the swiveling stool to see she stood five feet from him. Her hair was pulled back, dark circles huddled under her red rimmed eyes, and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides. _She hasn't sleep much lately, and she's upset about something_, his mind diagnosed swiftly yet he could not help but smile at her. He stood up slowly, conscious of the swimming sensation building his head as his heart began racing.

"Common cultural definition of the soul is a spark or a force that animates the body, giving it life and character," he offered then nodded at the bench. "That's a 61 cubic inch air cooled OHV, V-twin, with a 3¼ inch bore with a three five-eights stroke. Fits the definition perfectly as far as I'm concerned."

He paused for a breath as he wiped his grimy hands on the rag resting on the table in an effort to not rush at her for her expression suggested the distance between them was a requirement. The firm line at her mouth indicated she would like it kept, yet she was there… or so he hoped. His dreams lately were chaotic and confusing, warping his mind with images of watching his friends die, aliens invading New York, the 10 Rings massacring villages, and weapons with the name Stark exploding all around him. Seeing Pepper standing in front of him would be a nice change, but sleep gave him little peace so he had his doubts.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

Her response was crisp and rigid, just like her posture.

"Came in through that door," she replied.

"Used the door," he nodded. "Very stealthy."

"That's what doors are for," Pepper offered.

"Stealth?" he asked.

"Entering."

"Exiting, too, if we're being precise and technical," Tony added as he exhaled slowly. "This isn't going well is it? Uh, why are you here? Rhodey said no visitors."

"Well, I said yes," Pepper replied.

"Not usually," Tony remarked. "No is your preferred word. You say it a lot. To me anyway. Or, she did to me. If Rhodey let you in then he must have told you who I am, or rather who I'm not. If that makes any sense."

"It doesn't, but I followed it all the same," she said.

"Of course you did," he sighed then lifted his hands to run them through his hair as his mind became a jumble of tangled thoughts and feelings that multiplied at such a rapid rate he could not latch on to any single one to process.

As he lifted his hands, Pepper gasped. Without warning, she snatched his left hand out of the air. Her fingers were cold and trembled slightly but held his hand firmly as she flipped it palm-side up. She stared then lifted her eyes to look fully into his. He did not know for what she searched because he got too lost in her bright blue ones to care. They were familiar pools of serenity and comfort even with the tears blistering in the corners. Their mistiness was put in check by the small crinkles in the corners that only appeared when she was excited.

"When did you get this?" she asked as she ran her thumb along a rift in the skin of his left ring finger that continued onto his palm.

Tony stared at the spot and shrugged as he remarked he'd lost track of when he picked up most of his scars. A few stood out in memory clearly—the former housing for his arc reactor was easy to pinpoint as were most of the shrapnel marks. The one in his side where Thanos skewered him was also a vivid memory. Everything else, like the wounds themselves, were a faded jumble in his memory.

"This one is too small to make the greatest hits list," he shrugged.

She continued to switch her gaze between the scar and his face, blinking occasionally like she was at a loss for words. Tony did not push her to respond. He reminded himself that Rhodes had said she was grieving him (the loss of her Tony). Seeing an unexpected identical twin standing in front of her was surely unsettling. He did note there were rings on her hand. That filled in some of the details he had begged Rhodes to give him about Pepper's life. He felt a pang of jealousy for the guy who finally got around to marrying her. His wedding was still in the planning stages the last time he saw his Pepper. Rather than feel jealous of the other him, he simply enjoyed the moments he had gazing at her. He feared they would come to an end too soon, yet the lengthening silence of the room was growing uncomfortable.

"So," he remarked as she continued to stare at him wordlessly, "this is a little awkward, right?" He waited and sighed as her hand clasped the one of his that fascinated her so. "You look good. Of course, you always look good. I just mean that, right now, even though you're obviously not having a great time of things, you still look perfect, Miss Potts."

He was unprepared for her reaction. She let go of his hand instantly. The swiftness of the maneuver triggered his mind to think he was about to be slapped. Given the emotional charge in the room, he supposed he deserved that. So when she stepped toward him, he leaned backward instinctively, preparing to take the blow that he had earned, but the strike never came. It was her lips, not her hands, that made contact.

Kissing Pepper was an activity Tony always treasured. She was very good at the act. For a woman who had no dating life from nearly the day she began working as Tony's assistant in January 2000 until a decade later when she began dating him, she had very few chances to keep up her skills or develop new ones. That left Tony with the theory that she was simply born with natural kissing abilities. He was forever grateful and in awe of that. As his mind churned on that recollection, he felt the warm press of her body against his and the strength of her thin arms around him, pulling him closer until she sudden broke her hold and stepped back abruptly.

The shock on her face was painful to see but not unexpected. Tony released her then leaned back on the table again leaving her plenty of space if she wanted to wind up and give him that slap he initially expected.

"I'm sorry," she gasped as she blushed furiously and stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes.

"Don't be," he shook his head. "I'm not complaining about it, I mean other than the fact that you stopped, but I get why. I'm not… him."

"No," Pepper said. "I don't believe that… and neither do you."

The tears she held back since entering the room dribbled down her cheeks. She stepped toward him and placed both of her hand on along the sides of his face.

"You're Tony," she said breathlessly. "My Tony."

"The science says…," he began.

Pepper shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping the explanation she knew would not persuade her nor interest her. She had something stronger than science. Her information wasn't a theory. It was instinct, and she trusted hers—always. It had a very definite opinion as she leaned closer, marveling at the man starting to smirk in front of her.

"Yeah, science," he scoffed. "That could be wrong… finally. I mean, it's not I did the math on this one. So, you're good to do that again?"

She nodded as her lips parted just an inch in front of his.

"That's a good choice," he agreed breathily as his head rushes began in earnest, leaving him glad he had the table behind him for support and balance as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers again.

**oOoOo**

Rhodes moved fast down the hallway. The sound of his feet in the exoskeleton clacked and tapped with each step. He'd returned to the office where he left Pepper to find it empty. He found the guard he left with her meandering back to his post. Reynolds seemed stunned his assignment had taken a walk. Rhodes sent the man in one direction while he followed the other. As Rhodes entered the room where Tony was supposed to be with a guard while he worked on the bike, he found two people—they just weren't the two he expected. One was supposed to be there. The other was not.

"Whoa, hey," he exclaimed interrupting a passionate embrace.

Pepper gasped as she stepped backward, startled and embarrassed if the redness in her cheeks was any indication. Tony hung his head briefly then looked up murderously as he glared at Rhodes.

"You're timing sucks," he informed Rhodes, who ignored him.

"You are not supposed to be in here," Rhodes said.

"Then let me leave," Tony suggested.

"I'm not talking to you," he replied sharply. "Pepper, you were supposed to stay put."

"And I was supposed to stay dead," Tony cut in. "Nothing's really working out the way it should lately. Aren't there other rooms you could invading right now? We were in the middle of something."

"Yea, I saw," Rhodes said then pointed firmly. "You, stay here. Pepper, hallway, please."

He gestured calmly for her, ushering her out of the room. She offered a look of reluctance to Tony but followed the instruction. Tony was eager to join them, but Rhodes's pissed shake of his head and Tony's own lightheadedness prevented it. Instead, he sank back down to the stool then shrugged at Rhodes's continued glare.

"Don't do this to her," he warned. "She's hurting and vulnerable right now."

"For the record, she started it," Tony replied.

"Well, don't encourage it," he snapped. "She's going through a lot, and you aren't helping."

"I saw her rings," Tony noted. "When did we… they… get married?"

"Five years ago, just after Tony got back from Titan," Rhodes said. "She's only been a widow for a couple weeks so leave her alone."

With a curt nod, he left the room. In the hallway, he found Pepper with her arms folded rigidly and her lips pulled tight into a displeased pucker. The door behind Rhodes had barely closed when she began her lecture.

"This is unacceptable," she began.

"I'm sorry," Rhodes apologized. "I'm not defending him exactly, but he hasn't fully accepted this isn't his world. He's wanted to see you from the start so… I'm sorry. This is why I didn't want you to have any in person contact."

"What I was is my husband back," Pepper insisted. "Right now."

"I know," he nodded. "This is hard for you, but…"

"But nothing," she said and pointed commandingly at the closed door. "That's Tony. Rhodey, I'm no scientist. I don't understand multiple realities or astrophysics. What I do know is my husband. That's him. Not a similar being from another reality or whatever. That is Tony Stark, my Tony."

He shook his head as he offered understanding and calming words to get through to the part of her that would hear logic. The effect of being near the man in the other room was powerful, Rhodes agreed. He'd caught himself, multiple times, forgetting that the man could not be his friend. It was, he said, the greatest illusion of all time.

"You're having a lot of emotions right now," he continued in an easy voice.

"Yes, one of them is pissed because you're not listening to me," she said. "Rhodey, I looked at his hands."

"What did he do with his hands?" he wondered, not sure he wanted to know.

"There's a scar on his left hand," she said and held up her palm to point to the approximate spot. "Tony cut himself in July. His hand slipped when he was working on one of his projects. The cut went from his palm up his finger. His wedding ring was in the way so it didn't cut all the way up. He needed five stitches. That man in there has an identical scar in the same position."

"He has all of Tony's scars," Rhodes reminded her. "In his reality, we believe he did just about everything Tony did except die, we think. We don't know for certain because of his amnesia. We think that's due to trauma."

Pepper shook her head. While it was too fantastical to think that her dead husband had somehow managed to return, fully functioning, to her life, it was equally impossible to accept that another version of him was so precise that it included a cut interrupted by a wedding ring sustained just a few months earlier.

"He doesn't seem traumatized to me," she answered. "Why would he block getting married? Why not block just the traumatic event? Why five years? I don't know what happened to him, but whatever you think, you're wrong. That's _my_ husband, _our_ Tony."

He considered offering the theory that maybe what the man blocked was her dying in his world. That surely would be something of such great pain Tony could not handle it. But that was the problem. It was just a theory. As she said, they didn't know much of anything about the man for certain other than his DNA.

"He wasn't wearing a wedding ring when we found him," he offered as his only argument. "Pepper, I know this is hard, but you know as well as I do that Tony died."

"Yes, I was there when it happened," she said. "But he's also in that room right now. Rhodey, I would know if he was not my Tony. After 23 years of knowing him—that's 10 years of working for him, eight years of dating him, and five years of marriage—I was with him nearly every single day of the year. I'm an expert on Tony Stark. I'm telling you: That's him."

"You want it to be him," he reasoned.

"When I got here today, I was certain it wasn't him," she said. "I was angry that he was here, that he even existed. I wanted to see this man in case I needed to prepare for what might happen. I worried I needed to protect my husband's memory and his legacy from whoever you here hiding here. I knew in my heart, in my bones, that the man you were holding was not our Tony. I came here already convinced of it because I was with Tony when he died. I heard his last breath as he whispered my name."

She swiped her hand across her reddened eyes then sniffled as she took a deep breath to calm herself. This was not a moment for tearful, painful memories. This was a time for stating her case about what she discovered, about correcting her prior impression and her anger. The DNA was already on her side according to Rhodes's earlier offerings. Now, she had something else making her faith in her changed mind incontrovertible: her gut.

"But I was wrong," she said. "That is our Tony. I don't have a single doubt."

"Because you don't want any," Rhodes countered. "He looks and talks and acts like Tony, but can't be him. There's no logical explanation for how it could be him and how he could be alive."

"Look harder," she said fiercely. "And do it on your own time, not ours. He's not staying here. He has rights, and he has a family. I'm taking him home. Don't try to stop me."

She marched back into the room with Rhodes following as he waved to the returning guard, who approached carrying a tray from the commissary. Benton picked up his pace to join them. Inside the room, Pepper went to Tony's side and gripped his hand. He looked puzzled but pleased by her determined arrival. He looked from her firm expression to Rhodes's tense one.

"I don't know what happened out there," Tony remarked, "but if you had a fight, I'm betting she won."

"Stay out of this," Rhodes ordered.

"Not my style," Tony remarked as he felt Pepper's grip tighten. "Besides, I think I'm in the middle of it. You two, you know, the kid never likes it when Mommy and Daddy fight. What's the problem?"

"You," Rhodes answered.

"Shocking," Tony rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase: What problem did I cause now?"

"Chaos, Tony," he said. "I know this isn't really your fault, but you and chaos always go together. That's never good for order and civility."

"Well, civility is in the eye of the beholder," Tony countered feeling Pepper's stare. "And chaos is order. It's just unpredictable order according to quantum theory; although, I would argue that my recent experience with whatever brought me here, regardless of my place or time of origin, means that quantum physics has a lot of explaining to do."

He tilted his head and shifted his eyes to the side in a way that left the others in the room certain he was running through equations in his head, looking for where science let him down while simultaneously other circuits in his brain were plotting ways to make it right. Pepper bit her lip as Rhodes's shoulders drooped.

"I meant personal order and peace of mind," Rhodes explained.

"I will have both of those when we leave," Pepper nodded.

Her announcement stopped Tony's computations and drew his stare. He looked from her to Rhodes and saw conflicting emotions. One was eager and relieved. The other anxious and burdened.

"She just said _we_," Tony remarked.

"We're working on where he can go," Rhodes said.

"I think her _we_ was a different _we_," he remarked. "I want to go back to hers. I liked hers."

"He can't just walk out of here," Rhodes ignored him. "Some people can blend in, lead quiet and unremarkable lives, and hide, but—."

"Just so I'm clear, we're done with _we_ and just talking about me now?" Tony inquired. "A lot of short pronouns flying around so…"

"Man, just shut up," Rhodes growled. "You couldn't even read a damn prepared and agreed up on alibi denying you weren't Iron Man. This is a time for laying low, but you're Tony Stark. You're a magnet for attention."

"Okay," Tony nodded eagerly. "That's fair, but who are you again? My friend or my warden?"

"I'm the guy trying to keep you safe," Rhodes snapped. "Something brought you here. Maybe it wasn't to do you a favor."

"Hard to spin being alive as not a favor on some level," Tony noted and earned him a soft, scolding sigh from Pepper, although he noted the hint of a smile played across her lips.

"There are people above me who will make a decision on where you can go," Rhodes continued. "Even if they said you could leave, we'd need a strategy to do that."

Tony scoffed and scrubbed a hand across this face then rubbed the mighty knot cinching at the back of his neck. His heart was hammering against his ribs like he had just run up a flight of stairs. He shook his head to clear it as the swimming feeling returned. His skin felt hot and prickly as he heard Pepper muttered words instructing him to stay calm as his agitation became obvious.

"He's right about strategy," Pepper added. "A plan is always wise."

"I've always done fine making it up as I go along based on the facts as they present themselves," Tony argued. "It's called a successful, independent approach to problem solving."

"We can debate the results of that another time," Rhodes offered.

"You want to debate something, riddle me why Point Break gets to call himself God of Thunder without even belonging to a rock band," Tony chattered as he felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead. "Otherwise, I think we just… We just…"

His vision began to darken at the edges as the room began swirling. Benton, standing idiotically and uselessly behind them holding a food tray as he waited for orders, was the first to realize what was about to happen. He'd been concerned it might occur all day. Once Tony began working on something that interested him, the rest of the world seemed to disappear from his consciousness. He ignored direct questions and any nick or cut in that bled; he would go without eating and only returned to his quarters to sleep when firmly ordered and escorted by one of his guards. By Benton's estimation, they were on hour 10 without food at that moment so the savvy guard dropped the tray he carried and lunged forward to catch his charge's shoulder as Tony tipped forward and blacked out.

**oOoOo**

Ghost sat in his motel room ignoring the tacky 30-year-old décor and 10 years' worth of grim adhering to the walls and windows. The place was perfect because no one looked you in the eye or questioned anything as long as the bill was paid. He glanced at his phone as Osborne's message chimed.

_Stark at Avengers' base. Minimal guards on him. Compound heavily armed. Family *not* notified._

_Skydiving office visitor still MIA._

As reports go, it was not overly detailed or helpful beyond confirming Stark was alive still. The second part of the message intrigued him more. The man he flung out of Osborne's office should be a mushy puddle in body bag after falling 10 stories to pavement. That intrigued Ghost. The man also had an arm made of a metal he did not recognize. While it did pass through his de-molecularized form, Ghost felt it move through, which was not supposed to happen. There was something in the alloy of that fake appendage that wasn't entirely affected by his dysprosium outerwear. Added together, that told Ghost something important.

The man in question was like Steve Rogers. He'd received the super-soldier formula. When he did so was not known, but considering the man's youthful appearance and the fact he was not known to the world the way Roger was, that made Ghost suspect he was a more recent recipient. That, he decided, was the confirmation he sought.

Stark's wasn't his target to get his hands on the man's billions of dollars, his nano technology, or the secret behind his green energy platforms. No, what Ghost wanted wasn't something Tony Stark invented. He wanted something the man inherited. Stark's technology initially made Ghost vulnerable to SHIELD. So what Ghost wanted was protection from them—all of them—and a guarantee he would outlive every last one of them should they ever come after him again. To do that, he needed to be stronger, quicker, faster, and in every way better than he was. There was only one way to do that. He had the radiation chamber built and ready for his use, but it would only be effective he had the serum coursing through his veins first.

That formula was believed lost when Hydra agents assassinated its creator. Dr. Abraham Erskine never wrote down his formula as a means to keep himself necessary and safe from those who would steal it. To replicate it, they would need him alive and willing to comply. Unfortunately, no one told that to the bullet that killed him, but the man did leave two vital things behind: Steve Rogers and a curious engineer who liked to solve puzzles.

According to the SHIELD files Ghost read when the organization was outed by one of its own operatives years earlier, Howard Stark had two engrossing hobbies he kept hidden from the rest of the world. He spent countless days and dollars searching for the missing Rogers. He also had a vial of Rogers' blood that he worked with for 40 years and eventually used to synthesize Erskine's formula. Howard was a clever man and was not nearly as paranoid as Erskine. In fact, the man was bold and arrogant, which pleased Ghost for it meant he would have wanted credit for his discovery. Credit required proof. Proof constituted evidence. That meant one thing: He'd written the formula down.

SHIELD never got a copy of the chemical composition. Ghost felt certain it was among Howard's own archives—all of which passed to his son upon Howard's death. Osborne was wrong to think that Tony Stark was alive that day simply for revenge. He was needed to allow Ghost access to one thing his suit could not penetrate: Stark's private space on his company's impenetrable servers. Ghost was certain within that domain resided the formula he need.

He was equally certain that he could get Stark to turn it over to him. He just needed to get his hands on the man and finish what he started when he yanked him here.

**oOoOo**


	9. Chapter 9

**oOoOo**

Pepper stood outside Tony's quarters with her arms folded and her lips pressed tightly as she listened to the doctor explain that the only thing wrong with the patient was a persistent case of anemia.

"He passed out due to low iron in his blood?" she questioned. Her disbelief was high.

"It's a combination of factors that compounded the effects of the anemia," Dr. Tanis reported. "A week ago, he had what we termed a minor brain bleed."

"A what?" she cut in and shifted her sharp gaze on Rhodes.

"He was fine'ish afterwards," Rhodes replied, feeling as callous as the phase sounded to his ears.

Pepper exhaled deeply and pressed her hands to her face before running them through her hair then returning her attention to the doctor.

"How serious is all of this?" she asked curtly.

"Considering what I know about his documented medical history, he's been through much worse," Tanis replied.

"I ask again," she stated with all the force and rigidity that made the Board of Directors at Stark Industries stand when she entered the room, "as the wife of the patient and the person who is going to bring the full force of every medical board and inquiry possible down on you if I don't get a satisfactory answer: How serious was it?"

It took the man several minutes of reciting test results and a series of possible complications that never came to fruition (which therefore informed his opinion on the lack of seriousness of the incident) to persuade her that the medical issues of the prior week were not so much dire as unexpected.

"We don't know what's causing his symptoms, but that's all they are: symptoms," he explained. "He has no diagnosis because numerous scans and tests revealed nothing. He has no evidence of intracranial or maxillofacial damage. There is nothing viral, bacterial, or otherwise organic in his blood that would cause any of this. Basically, there's nothing actually wrong with him."

Pepper pointed out that Tony had just passed out mid-sentence when he was seemingly fine minutes earlier. That, in her opinion, didn't constitute nothing wrong.

"I stand by my diagnosis," the doctor asserted. "He's under acute stress from whatever he went through prior to arriving here. The only treatment he need is rest and a reduction in stress levels. Not ingesting coffee like it's a food group and eating more than once every 15 hours is also recommended, but I really shouldn't have to tell that to an adult with his IQ."

He cast his eyes, not at the patient but at his guards who both recoiled as though Tony's ability to get lost in his work was somehow Reynold's or Benton's fault. Pepper would have offered some sympathy to them (knowing their task had been a nearly impossible one), but her own reserves were at a low ebb, and she didn't have all the answers she needed just yet. She also knew more than half of the problem was the man resting in the other room.

"Anemia, irregular heartbeat occasionally, being an idiot about remembering to eat?" she summarized. "Nothing contagious? Nothing dangerous? Nothing deadly?"

"Nothing," the doctor shook his head. "He's tired, stubborn, and stressed."

"Well, that's… typical," she shook her head then cast a softer glance at the patient, currently sleeping after receiving a mild sedative.

"All anemia jokes aside, he's not made of iron," Tanis said. "He's human like the rest of us."

She kept her gaze on Tony as she posed the next question.

"Would he be better off in a less restrictive atmosphere?"

"Medically, yes, but that's not my call," the doctor answered.

"Actually, it is," Pepper nodded. "You're the only person here with any professional authority over him. He's not a prisoner. This is not a recognized or sanctioned law enforcement or national security endeavor."

"Pepper, no," Rhodes sighed.

"I'll go as far as calling you a public service organization," she asserted, "but if you intend to keep my husband here any longer against his will, I'll start calling you kidnappers. Your own medical expert just said this place is doing him harm. Well, that ends now."

The doctor took her words as his cue to depart. Rhodes stepped in front of Pepper blocking her entrance to the patient's room. Worry was etched into his face identical to hers but both stemmed from very different concerns.

"I understand wanting to get Tony back," he spoke in hushed tones. "You're in denial and grasping at straws. I know how much you loved him."

"I still love Tony," she said. "I'm not in denial. He's right there."

He felt obligated to be a speedbump in her plan. Impatience was not typical Pepper Potts behavior. She was always the voice of moderation and consideration in Tony's life. That she was willing to throw all of that out in a blink spoke volumes about her desperation, Rhodes said. He continued to push her to rethink her decision.

"Your plan to take him home isn't wise, safe, or smart," he argued.

"Neither was working for Tony, dating Tony, or marrying Tony, but all of those turned out fine," Pepper replied as she pushed past him to enter the room.

"Even if I agreed with you," Rhodes offered, "there's no way Fury will allow him to leave."

"We'll see about that," she said over her shoulder.

She then hitched her leg on the bed and sat beside the sedated man. He looked ashen and a little hollow but very much alive. She leaned down and kissed his cheek as she clasped his hand in her. She wasn't sure who she could call in to help her take Tony out of this place. Leading a jailbreak was not her style, and the only person she ever knew who did successfully stage one was elderly now.

**oOoOo**

Fury glared at his crack team of secret keepers. Two guards, three Avengers, a doctor, and two med techs. Everyone on of them was on his shit list, each for very different reasons.

"So in the matter of 48 hours, we've managed to hospitalize our guest, rule he's got nothing wrong with him that eating a rare steak can't fix, give his widow ammunition to kills us in the press, and…," he paused and swiveled in his chair to look at the green member of the group. "I don't even know what you did to get hauled in here, Dr. Banner, but I'm mad at you all the same."

Sam spoke first, noting that technically the secret was still being kept. There was one additional party in the know and she was not likely to jeopardize the patient's safety by going to the press—particularly as she now believed the man was her actual dead husband.

"What part of that did you think would ease my mind?" Fury asked. "My point is that it just got a lot harder to argue for keeping him here."

"Pepper isn't thinking straight," Rhodes offered. "This is an emotional reaction."

"She sounded very clear when she was in here laying out her case to me," Fury replied. "I've got two soldiers, one scientist and a doctor in front of me, and none of you presented me with the facts as clearly and concisely as she did. I don't know which of you is right—our parallel universe tag team over here or the woman who assures me this man bears scars sustained in injuries at their house just a few months before he died. Dr. Banner, I can see you want to tell me that injury also might have happened in another reality, am I right?"

Banner nodded but kept his lips sealed.

"So my counter argument," Fury continued, "is that if it happened there, then doesn't that essentially make him the same man who was here? If there is no difference between there and here, why are some of your worried? The only thing you can tell me for certain that this Tony Stark didn't do is die. I have a hard time arguing that's a good enough reason to keep him here. Have there been any other energy spikes to show us something else appeared the way he did?"

Banner shook his head and revealed that there was precisely no evidence whatsoever to show the process of pulling someone from one reality to another had repeated (if that was what happened in the first place). Nor was there any reason to believe it would happen again much less that there was any negative consequence to it having happened even once. Fury nodded and turned his flat gaze on Rhodes.

"What's your objection?" he asked.

"He's a stranger to her technically," Rhodes argued. "I want him to be Tony, too, but our Tony's dead. We can't just let her leave here with him."

"That sounds like an emotional reaction," Fury chided. "You got any hard evidence that this man is a danger to anyone if he leaves here?"

Rhodes shook his head. He thought feebly about stating that Tony Stark, regardless of reality, was likely a danger to himself at any time if the mood struck him, but it felt like a cheap shot. It was more of a teasing jab he would use to tag his friend in a friendly argument. The truth behind his objection was simpler. Tony was gone, and Rhodes worried that getting him back in this way was just delaying some inevitable backlash. He wasn't as convinced as the doctor that there was nothing wrong with the guy. If there was, it could take him away again. The pain of losing the man twice would be colossal.

"There being no objections to support continued on-sight custody, it's time we formulate a plan for release," Fury noted as Rhodes sighed. "I agree with you that we can't hold a press conference and say '_sorry, our bad, dude's not dead yet_.' This has to be done quietly and without notice—for now. It also can't happen without precautions being taken. That's where Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Benton will come in."

He then laid a request for a security perimeter around the Stark home near the lake. He wanted plans that involved a combination of bodies and technology to hang a 360-degree, two-axis net around the homestead to make it a secure enclave but not appear that it was. Pepper still needed the ability to come and go from the home to her office without raising suspicions. The security would be as much to keep the world away as it was to keep an eye on the man who might not belong in this world.

"You think Tony's going to put up with being essentially under house arrest in his home?" Banner asked doubtfully.

"I think he'll be happy not to be here," Fury remarked.

"Gentlemen, I am not authority on security or any related matters," the doctor said. "What I can tell you is that this man's condition is not dire. As his attending physician, keeping him here is delaying his recovery. The humanitarian thing to do and the best course of treatment is to release him. How you do that is not my concern once he leaves my care, but the sooner you do it the sooner he will improvement. That I can guarantee."

With nothing more to offer in the way of useful theories or actionable objections, most of those gathered left. Sam hung back, waiting until the room was empty before clearing his throat. Fury looked up and gave him a flat stare.

"You got something else for me?" he growled.

Sam sighed then shook his head.

"Not really," he said. "Cap's crazy BFF thinks Maria Hill is working on the side with a former Hydra contractor."

"The super part of super-soldier never quite made its way between that boy's ears," Fury shook his head. "He looking to assassinate her?"

He said it in such a way that left Sam with little doubt who Fury thought would come out on top in that fight. Sam smirked even if he wasn't quite so confident in Hill's skills. She was good, but Bucky was a machine.

"No," he shook his head. "Bucky's more interested in following up on the scumbag financier she met with. He's a guy who use to help out Hydra when the price was right. Dude's name is Mason Osborne. That send off an alarms for you?"

"Mason?" Fury scoffed. "He hasn't been an issue in nine years at least. He's a mercenary, yes. He'll sell out to whoever is paying enough. That makes him more stupid than dangerous."

"Hey, just passing it along," Sam held up his hands.

"Well, pass along this to Mr. Barnes: We thank him for the information, but he should steer clear of playing spy and private detective," Fury said as Sam nodded and turned toward the door. "Where do you think you're going? You've got a security plan to give me."

"Me?" Sam questioned.

"Rhodes is too wrapped up in the personal side of this," Fury shook his head. "He's afraid of betraying the memory of his friend. Right now, I need someone who doesn't see a friend but sees an objective."

Sam nodded. He was never a Team Tony guy. Granted, the man did come provide some quality toys to the team. His resources where never withheld even when there was a disagreement. He was grateful the guy took the ultimate hit for everyone, but Sam didn't feel the blind devotion to him that his legion of fans did. That sentiment was the precise reason Fury wanted him to lead the security team.

"I need the best I've got on this, and you're it," Fury said. "I'm not faulting Rhodes. He and Stark go way back. You cut one, the other bleeds. That's great for a wingman. It's no good when you've got to keep your heart out of decisions."

"This guy is a job, not a friend," Sam nodded. "Got it."

"This guy is Tony Stark," Fury corrected. "Never forget that. He's a friend, a colleague, and a certified pain the in ass. From here, not from here, it doesn't matter. The fact is that he is here, and I for one would like him to stay. The man has control issues and authority issues, but he's also got an engineering mind that makes his father look like an everyday mechanic. The world is more chaotic, more dangerous, and more vulnerable now than it's ever been because of what recently happened. We need all the help we can get. Someday, we may need that brain of his again. See that you do everything you can to make sure it's still with us and working when the time comes."

**oOoOo**

**_Stark Lakehouse_**

**_One Week Later_**

The thing about freedom was that it was actually terrifying. Like the first time Tony ever solo piloted a plane, the sense that he would manage to losing control and auger it into the ground rather than land it was strong yet invigorating. He'd told his father about the feeling afterward. His only remark was "that's how you know you're doing it right."

That sensation returned to Tony as Sam drove him to the house that Pepper assured him was their home. Not a single bend in the winding road, not a single glimpse through the trees of the placid lake, not a single weathered clapboard on the exterior was familiar in the fading autumn light. What lay within the dwelling was equally foreign.

Tony had learned in the last 28 hours that a young child lived there, a girl not yet five, who answered to the name Morgan. Pepper had briefed Tony about "their" daughter (_yeah, DAUGHTER, as in little girl, as in his progeny, his responsibility_). While he was thrilled to learn the child existed, it also twisted a knot in his chest. There was no way he would traumatically block that he and Pepper got married and had a child. That was the life he had wanted for so long—the one he was literally dreaming of when he got whisked off to Titan to face off with Thanos. If he had returned to Earth and finally obtained it, nothing could rip those memories from him, which left Tony believing that the parallel reality theory was truly the solid answer for his existence.

But Pepper remained firm, hanging her faith on a little scar.

Her argument was supported by a solitary memory of five stitches. That observation could be translated into a probability statistic, but statistics were cheap math in Tony's book. The only piece of the equation that left him with a shred of hope was Pepper's faith. The woman was simply never wrong—not about the big things (_excluding, of course, stuffed rabbits because who doesn't love a giant bunny?_).

"A little tense there, Chief?" Sam questioned as they rolled to a stop near the house.

"I'm probably about to screw up two lives by walking through that door," Tony replied. "A moment of hesitation doesn't seem unwarranted."

"I think it's more like you'd screw up three if you don't," Sam observed.

"The kid's gonna know I don't belong here," Tony admitted. "That'll result in a lifetime of therapy for her."

"With you as her father, that was always a possibility," Sam grinned then his smile faltered as he didn't see an objection in his passenger's eyes to challenge him. "That's a joke, man. Look, you feel like you're in over your head, am I right? Well, I think that's the definition of parenthood. Just do your best to be the kind of father that you needed rather than the one you got."

Tony nodded, finding that was actually helpful advice. On some level, he knew his father had done the best he could. He was simply limited with those abilities. Why Howard Stark was that way and whether he could have worked harder to overcome his distance was a mental exercise in futility. The chance to do it over never arrived for him. Tony, however, had what his father never did: a second chance.

"Your guys are keeping watch so no one comes to visit without permission?" he asked abruptly.

"Rotating teams in various strategic locations," Sam nodded. "You'll never know they're here. We installed panic buttons in a few locations in the house, on the grounds, and in that lab posing as a workshop in the garage. It's all secure."

"From what?" Tony asked.

"From everything," Sam answered. "It's still private as all hell. We're not watching you; we're watching everything that might get near you."

"How long?"

"As long as I say," Sam replied. "Now, you done stalling, or should we play a game of Eye-Spy 'til you find your courage, superhero?"

"Your compassion is overwhelming," Tony said as he opened the car door. "I think I liked you better when we didn't talk."

"Well, I think you're _the_ _guy_," Sam offered and drew Tony's stare. "I don't buy that other reality mumbo jumbo. I believe in what I can see. You're here so you're you."

"I died," Tony said.

"So did I," Sam shrugged. "I came back because you figured out how to hack time travel. So you're not special, Tony; you're just a rerun."

"A compliment followed by an insult," he nodded gratefully. "That feels normal. Thanks, but you're wrong about the multiple realities. There's plenty of proof—mathematically speaking."

"Well, I only speak English, Spanish, and Farsi," Sam grinned as Tony got out of the car and made his way to the house.

To say his knees quaked was not poetic license. It was a fact. Tony felt his heart racing and skipping beats, although he was not sure if it was nerves this time or simply whatever was wrong with his internal timing. FRIDAY was chewing on various results still. Tony would check in with his AI later. Right now, he had to make it into the house and not screw this up.

He'd seen every picture Pepper had of Morgan on her phone. He'd watched every short video of the child (from a drooling bald creature to a rambunctious dark-haired child learning how to swim). She had his eyes. There was no doubt that, but her expressions and her smile reminded him of her mother. He both desperately wanted to meet her (telling Pepper he'd have been willing to sell out his country just to hear the girl's voice in person) to dreading meeting her for fear of mentally damaging her with his reappearance. The urge to bolt and flee from the house was strong. It actually was a few seconds from a video Pepper played for him that kept him moving forward. The child was sitting in front of a stack of blocks that, due to poor construction, was destined to topple. When it did, she loosed the most rapturous sound Tony had ever heard: her giggle. It was innocent and rich, and it tore through him faster and cleaner than a bullet. It left him weak and addicted to her instantly. The chance to hear that sound live was one of his reasons for living at that moment.

When he got to the door, he paused. Should he knock? Walking in seemed like something he would do if it was his home, yet Rhodey's caution came flooding back to him. Tony didn't fault the man for his hesitations. He was protecting his best friend's wife and child. Tony would expect nothing less of Rhodey and appreciated him for it, but going against Rhodey was sometimes the best thing to do, he reminded himself. Before he could raise his hand to either knock or turn the knob, the door opened.

Pepper greeted him with a wide, anxious smile. Gone was her serious business attire. The dark circles he grew familiar with over the previous week remained present, but the paleness had faded. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt with her hair down. Her feet were bare and her hands were warm as she clasped his and smiled as she led him into the home.

"She's in the living room coloring," she said quietly. "She doesn't know you're coming."

"So maybe we should call this off and rethink it," Tony whispered his suggestion.

The words were barely out of his mouth when Pepper disagreed by laying a kiss on him that was either to build confidence or offer reassurance. He didn't know which nor did he care. It worked, and she tasted gloriously like a mango. As he remarked on it, she informed him she was making tofu mango rice bowls for dinner, which they would eat once the meet and greet in the other room was done.

"You look tired," she said, caressing his cheek.

"Haven't slept much," he said. "This whole '_welcome to your life_' is a little…" Tony paused then exhaled as he decided to get to the point. "She's gonna know I'm not... him. We've never met. I've never been given her a birthday gift. I've never tucked her in or…"

"Yes, you have," Pepper assured him. "You're…"

"Schrödinger's cat," he offered then clocked his head to the side as he grimaced. "Did I just call myself pussy?" Pepper pressed her lips together as she smirked and stifled a chuckle as he continued to nervously ramble. "I just meant that I'm alive and dead at the same time, which is supposed to be impossible."

"You're Tony Stark," Pepper assured him. "Impossible is sort of your thing."

"I don't know how to be her father," he confessed. "She has four years of history that I don't have. I only know her from whatever fits on your phone. It feels like I'm intruding. Pep, I don't want to screw this up, but let's be honest: Family and me aren't exactly a hand in glove sort of fit."

"Actually, they are," she disagreed. "You're good at a lot of things. Being her father is one of them, you're spectacular at it. You have a way of talking to her that's uniquely and that she responds to. So just be you. Do and say whatever feels natural."

"Whatever?" Tony questioned. "Pretty sure half of the headaches I've ever caused involved me saying and doing whatever I pleased."

"I'm not worried," she smiled.

"Well, for once I am."

"She's the only person I've ever seen interrupt you when you're working and you don't mind," Pepper informed him. "I don't expect perfection. I expect dedication, and you've never let us down there. Parenting isn't about being perfect or knowing all the answers, Tony. It's about being there for her and not making the same mistake twice."

"I've got four years of mistakes I'm going to repeat," he noted.

"That's fine," Pepper said taking him by the hand and walking further into the house. "She's young. She won't notice."

"It still feels like I'm stealing something," Tony muttered.

"No, you think something's being handed to you," Pepper diagnosed. "I promise you that's not what this is. This was already yours. You were taken from us. We're getting you back."

She briefly explained that Morgan had not yet accepted her father was gone for good despite having it explained to her several times. It wasn't that she didn't comprehend the concept of death. She'd seen a bird that died following an ice storm the previous winter and had it explained to her that it would never fly or chirp again and would be buried to be seen no more. She didn't like those answers, but she understood them.

With her father, it was different. The child simply refused to accept that that he was never coming home. She had gone quiet in the previous weeks. She stopped playing the upright piano they had in the backroom where her father gave her lessons on Sunday mornings. She looked out the windows toward the garage in search of a light in the workshop but found none. After that, she retreated into her coloring books and her drawings. She had a stack of drawings she told Happy were for her father to see once he came home. Happy merely passed along the information to Pepper, who let him know the specialists said that was normal. Therefore, Pepper reasoned Tony's sudden reappearance wouldn't be as much of a psychological jolt as Tony (and Rhodes) worried it would be.

"It's okay that you're nervous," Pepper said to him as butterflies began churning in her stomach. "Just promise me one thing."

"Anything," he replied.

"If she asks for her own jetpack, do not build her one," Pepper asserted.

"Would she ask for one?" he blinked as a sly smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

Pepper's eyes were wide with worry as she nodded and let him know their daughter showed a decided lack of fear of pretty much anything.

"Really?" Tony remarked then stroked his chin as his eyes narrowed. "That intrigues me as much as it worries me."

"Just don't feel rejected if after she see you she looks over your shoulder and asks if Happy is here, too," Pepper advised.

"I think I'd feel better if Happy was here," he muttered.

**oOoOo**

**_Steve Rogers' Apartment_**

**_Evening_**

The apartment was new. Cap had moved in to the first floor garden apartment west of Albany, New York just two months earlier. He wasn't certain why he'd done it. He'd lived most of golden years in England. He and Peggy spent much of their life together closer to New York City or just outside Washington, D.C. Her work kept her busy, but ever the trooper she'd managed to keep her private life just that: private. It was no small feat considering where she worked and who she worked with. Staying away from Howard, maintaining the secret identity of her husband, Roger Stevens, was nearly a full-time job until Howard himself got married. Cap had worked a normal job teaching freshman history for 20 years and politely declined all nominations for Teacher of the Year and requests to be the graduation speaker for his students. When Peggy finally retired, they'd returned to her home country and settled there.

Their children visited as did their grandchildren. Not long after her funeral he'd begun toying with the idea of moving back to the States. He could blend in and set himself up without arousing any suspicion. He was well aware of what was occurring with the version of himself that had yet to jump back in time. He followed the cataclysmic events involving the Avengers on the news like everyone else. He'd been keeping track of his teammates as much as possible over the years. Clint and Nat were the hardest as they simply did not exist as far as the media or public records were concerned. Banner published a few scientific papers that made their way on line; Cap read them but didn't pretend to understand most of what they said. When he finally made headlines that involved destruction, Cap merely sighed with compassion for his friend and reminded himself that it would all be well in the end.

For most of them, anyway.

Not surprisingly, the easiest one to follow was always the hardest one for Cap to understand: Tony. Or that's how it had always seemed. Now, after 50 years of living his own life and raising a family, so much of what baffled Cap previously made sense. There were different kinds of duty, and the weight of parental expectation was a hard burden to carry. His own children had acted out at times and been rebellious. Patience, he learned, was truly a gift not given but earned over many, many years. The chaos of the world and the technological explosion that occurred in the latter part of the last century made impulsiveness less of a vice and more of a way of life. Looked at through the wisdom of a full lifetime, Tony seemed perfectly suited for his time yet not completely comfortable in the role.

Cap realized that was one part of the Stark puzzle that he'd missed on the first go around: Tony's uncertainty. There was always the rapid comments, the sharp answers, the urge to dive in and deal with any situation as events were crashing down around him. Cap never had the benefit of a backseat position to sense the doubt and the fear that were the driving forces to much of what Tony did. He built weapons to try and intimidate a war-like world into ceasing its fighting. He built armor to protect himself; he built robots to save people from first having serve as his lab assistants and to face threats that scared him so much that even his own armor was enough.

It was strange but enlightening to think of Tony's motivations as being innocent and child-like, but perspective showed that they were in many respects: _Look at me. I want what's mine. Don't touch what's mine. Don't break what's mine. I have to save what's mine. Why can't we all just have fun?_

The parent in Cap recognized those urges for what they were at their core: fear and pain. Tony's fears, like his pain, were big and life-altering.

_And now that life is over_, Cap sighed.

Being close for the aftermath of the battle was his primary motivation for moving to this area. Two of his three grandchildren—his grandson and youngest granddaughter—both lived and worked in New York City. Both were adjusting to life after returning from their five-year absence. Cap had weathered their disappearance better than most others on the planet did. He knew all along that they would return. He felt selfish keeping that information to himself, keeping it from his own children who suffered through the inexplicable loss of their kids, but it was necessary. He counseled patience and perseverance through adversity. Just a few weeks earlier, that paid off and his family—his blood family anyway—was whole again.

The family that came to him through other means, his team, would always be two members shy from now on.

He mopped his eyes as tears for Nat and Tony prickled under his eyelids. Although he'd already lived their deaths once and knew they were coming again (and necessary), he'd still experienced the pain of their losses once more as though they were fresh and new. He was shaking his head and looking at a photo clipped from a newspaper of years earlier showing the entire original team in New York the first time they came together to battle an impossible foe. As he gazed at it, there was a knock on the door. He looked through the spyhole to see a familiar if unexpected face.

"Doing a wellness check on the elderly?" he asked Sam as he opened the door for him.

"Just in the neighborhood," Sam replied. "Is it too late?"

"Why, do you have a curfew?" Cap asked stepping aside and ushering him into the room.

Sam smiled and took in the scene. There were a few boxes on the tables still but the rest of the room was tidy. There were pictures on the wall, lamps on tables, and everything was orderly like one would expect in the dwelling of a former soldier.

"Come a long way since last week when I dropped by," Sam noted. "Your granddaughter made it up here to help you give it a lived in touch?"

The two men had joked about Cap's Spartan approach to decorating the first time Sam saw the small apartment. The older man had explained his recently-returned granddaughter (Shelley Anne Stevens) was looking for something to give order to since she felt like so much of her life was in disarray. Sam advised him at the time to hold off unpacking his boxes and wait for her to assist as a means of giving her a little readjustment therapy. If she could put grandpa's house in order, she might find the will and courage to do the same for her own life.

"She spent a weekend here," Cap said. "Afterward, she said she felt ready to dive back into her life or find out what her life entails now. Thank you for that advice, by the way. Of course, I think this would be a smoother transition for her if she wasn't so sad."

"Losing five years is rough, but she's still young," Sam shrugged. "Not a bad thing to still be 25 in this day and age."

Cap shrugged and frowned a bit.

"It's not her own loss of time that bothers her," he admitted with discomfort. "It's her hero. Getting back after losing so much time is difficult on everyone, but Shelley Anne seems to be taking it extra hard because of the news about Tony."

Sam blinked. He stared and stared, hoping Cap would give him some indication that what he just said didn't mean what his fellow soldier took it to mean. When no other explanation came forward, Sam's face split into a huge, merciless grin. He guffawed as Cap nodded and sighed.

"You mean that that all this time, all these years," he chuckled, "your granddaughter was a…?"

"Devoted and now heartbroken fan of Tony Stark, yes," Cap nodded. "She's had a schoolgirl crush on him since she was a teenager. I think some of it might have a genetic component. When Peggy never loved Howard Stark, but she did adore him. When her memory began slipping, if she would see Tony on TV, she'd sigh and smile then say '_Oh Howard_.'"

Sam gasped for breath as he doubled over at the admission.

"Two women in your family?" he knuckled tears out of his eyes.

"I'd rather not disparage Tony, but I would like to point out that Peggy had dementia what that happened," Cap sighed but there was a smile in his eyes. "Honestly, I've never able to determine if that was the universe showing a sense of humor or some strange form of karma that men in the Stark family had a strong following among the females in mine. What I do know is that I can never tell Shelley Ann I knew Tony or about… any of this."

"What do you do when she went all fangirl about him?" Sam asked.

"The only thing I could," Cap replied. "I'd nod and say that's nice while I tried to change the subject. I did use her fascination with him once as motivation to keep up with her piano lessons by telling her that I read in a magazine that Tony Stark played."

"He does?" Sam questioned then cleared his throat and corrected himself. "I mean, he did?"

"Quite well, according to what his father told Peggy," Cap nodded. "His mother, Maria, was musically talented. She taught him when he was very young. It seems he was a prodigy at that as well. Apparently, musical talent goes hand in hand with mathematical aptitude so I guess it's not surprising. Shelley Anne really is upset about his passing. It's hard for me to hear her sorrow and remain detached. I miss him, too. By now, I've actually spent more years missing him than he was actually alive."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach as he let the lie of omission bloom between them, but he was under orders still.

No one, not even Steve Rogers, was allowed to know who had been locked up at the base until just that evening. Sam hoped, with a little luck, the secret could be shared (at least with a select few) in the near future.

"So what brings you here this evening?" Cap asked. "You weren't just in the neighborhood. I'm 20 miles out of the way for you neighborhood. Is everything all right?"

Sam had hemmed and hawed during his drive to Cap's. The guy was not cleared to know anything. Sam was under orders to keep strict silence about everything, but Cap was the one guy who knew things Sam needed to know: who to trust and how far to trust them? The trick was asking it without seeming like he was hiding anything and arousing Cap's suspicion. Deception was never Sam's best trait. He was a straight shooter and preferred not to play games with his friends. Sometimes that meant being blunt but brief.

"Got a crazy question: You think it's possible there could be a mole or a leak in our organization?" Sam asked. "I mean, so soon after everything?"

Cap nodded as he absorbed the question and considered it. Chaos was always a ripe environment for exploitation

"Yes, it's always possible, but so is paranoia," Cap replied simply. "Why? Do you suspect someone?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "It's just that I heard some rambling talk that made me wonder for a second. Right now, part of my job is trying to round up the people we caught years ago who escaped when they turned to dust. It's that déjà vu all over again. The difference is this time, I've got a new team to try and find them all—and I do mean new. Hard to repeat history when you don't have your guys with you."

"Losses force us to recruit new talent," Cap counseled. "That's good even if it's hard. The right things often are."

"Well, I'd give just about anything for Clint to pick up his bow again, that's all I'm saying," Sam offered.

"Clint deserves time with his family," Cap said. "He lost five years. We can't begrudge him even a moment of the comfort they're bringing him now. That reminds me, I should write to Pepper before the holidays arrive. Those won't be easy days for her."

Sam nodded, unable to say anything without feeling like he was lying to his friend. He'd never kept a secret from Steve and doing so now felt corrosive. He wasn't sure where to lay the blame for that: at Stark's feet or Fury's. In the end, he decided to pawn it off on Thanos. Dude was dead but his maniacal ideas to remake the universe were what kick-started this mess they were in currently.

"Is something else bothering you?" Cap asked as he spied the deep furrow in Sam's forehead.

"World just keeps changing and keeping up isn't easy," he said cryptically. "You talked to Bucky lately?"

"Not in more than a week, why?"

"No reason," Sam shook his head. "I was thinking of calling him. Just checking in. Dude just got back. I just got back. Compare notes. That kind of thing maybe. I got one number for him. You got a different one?"

Cap handed Sam his phone. He scrolled through and found the same number he had—the one Bucky did not answer when he tried calling on his way to Cap's place.

"I think the two of you getting to know each other better would be a good idea," Cap nodded. "You have your differences, but you're a lot more alike than either of you are willing to admit."

"Back before he was… under their control," Sam began, "did he have a good sense of things? Like, you trusted him as your friend, I know, but did you his gut instincts?"

Cap nodded and thought back to those days in Brooklyn. He was the misfit, and Bucky was his hero. The guy could have turned his back and been like everyone else, treat the little guy like a joke or a punching bag. But he never did. Not once. He always stuck up for his friend but never made him feel like the little guy. They were brothers in everything but blood. His trust in Bucky was marrow deep.

"There's no one I've ever trusted more completely," Cap said. "I've never had a single reason to back away from that. Whatever Bucky told me, I knew I could bank on it without a doubt. I still feel that way."

Sam nodded and kept his sigh to himself. The person he trusted most in the world had just let him know he'd turned his back on possibly a dire warning. With his new assignment of keeping Stark both safe and a secret, Bucky's crusade had just collided with Sam's official duties.

**oOoOo**


	10. Chapter 10

**oOoOo**

**_Stark Lakehouse_**

**_Evening_**

Freshly fallen evening pressed its face tightly against the bank of windows overlooking the calm lake as a harvest moon rose through the trees. Tony's heart slammed against his breastbone and pounded in his ears as they walked into the living room. Fortunately, Pepper kept solid grip on his hand, grounding him as they entered the cozy room with the fireplace, comfortable looking couch and chairs.

None of it seemed familiar to him except the mop of dark hair atop a small body that hunched over a coffee table littered with crayons. He'd seen her a hundred times in pictures on Pepper's phone while they waited for security to be put in place and arrangements made for him to leave the compound. Those pictures were all that filled his head each night as he tried in vain to sleep. Now she sat with her back to him oblivious to being observed. Pepper nodded to him as she gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze then addressed the child.

"Morgan," Pepper said with a small hitch in her voice leaving it cracking on the end. "There's someone here."

The little girl's shoulder's drooped in what was obviously a silent groan at being interrupted. He was prepared to wait a bit longer, but Pepper tilted her head and nudged him slightly with her elbow, prodding him to speak. He swallowed the lump in his throat as panic began welling in his chest for what to say until words simply spilled out.

"What's it take to get a simple hello in this house?" he asked.

The effect was instantaneous. Morgan gasped as her head snapped up and around, sending her dark strands swishing across her face. She raked them back quickly and was off her knees and into her feet in less than a blink. Tony wasn't sure what to expect, but the flying leap onto the couch followed by the dive over the top that launched her into his arms was not anywhere on his radar. Pepper's yelp proved she too half-expected the girl to race around the furniture, not vault over it. The high pitched squeal of "Daddy" had not yet died in Tony's ears as he caught her. Morgan wrapped her tiny arms and legs around him tightly as she began shaking.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently, looking to Pepper who had tears running down her face. "What did I do?"

"Are you okay?" Pepper asked calmly as she brushed the flowing streams from her cheeks then slowly rubbed Morgan's back with comforting, soothing strokes. "Tony, I'm asking you: Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied as the trembling child, the one who had not shed tear since learning her father was gone, began sobbing into his shoulder with mushy words and choking noises of sorrow. "Is she okay? The crying doesn't worry you?"

"No, she'll be fine in a minute," Pepper assured him as guided him to the couch.

Following her gesture, he took a seat and situated the crying child in his lap, although she showed no signs of releasing her vice-like grip on him. After several moments of sobbing, her breath evened out, and she pulled back from him. Her face was tied in a knot with puckered lips and a knitted brow.

"You went away," she accused. "You didn't call or come home."

"That wasn't my fault… entirely," he answered feeling it was a feeble if honest answer.

"I missed you," Morgan rubbed her eyes with bunched fists before throwing her arms around his neck again for another hug. "I wanted you to come home."

"People want me to do a lot of things," Tony said. "I should get better at that."

"Yes, you should," she scolded with a pout and a sniffle as she released her hold on him. "You were gone. You were gone for too long."

"Well, I'm here now," he offered

More of her hair plastered to her cheeks as the strands soaked up her tears while his eyes feasted on her animated features. She was more beautiful in person. She had her mother's complexion and nose. Her eyes were definitely from the Stark side of the equation. As he soaked in the sight of her, she huffed and then rested her head on his shoulder as though fatigue had claimed her. He slid his eyes sideways to Pepper to see if she had any guidance to offer, but she merely sat beside him, smiling back and while rubbing his free shoulder.

"I waited for you," Morgan said softly as she sniffled. "A long time."

"I waited a long time to see you, too," he replied.

He brushed hair strands off her tear streaked face. Her lashes were matted together in triangles and her cheeks were reddened, but she suddenly sat up grinning and shifted moods with no warning.

"A bird got in the house," she beamed. "It scared Happy because it was all flappy. He put it in a towel."

The tale seemed to be news to Pepper, who instantly questioned the report.

"He did what?" Pepper asked. "When was that?"

"Happy said not to tell you," Morgan said to her mother then settled her gaze entirely on Tony as she started giggling and grinning with all thoughts of tears long gone. "He shook the towel. Then the bird flew away, but Happy was scared."

Tony blinked not sure what flipped the switch from weeping child to giggling one, but he was glad for the change. Morgan's laugh, the one he had longed to her in person, did not disappoint. The sound of it alone drew a smile on his face even without imagining Happy turning into a shrieking fool while battling an invading robin.

"Happy's scared of birds?" Tony asked and got a nod. "That is funny. We should see about buying him a parrot as a gift."

The suggestion earned him a shower of giggles from the child and warning huff from Pepper that delighted him nearly as much.

"No," she added swiftly uttering the word with serene practice and confidence.

Before Tony could plead a case of helping his friend get over a newly discovered phobia involving winged creatures, Morgan cocked her head to the side. She placed her tiny hand on Tony's chin and coaxed him to look directly at her.

"Do you have a cold?" she asked abruptly.

"A cold?" Tony repeated and shook his head. "No. Why do you think I have a cold?"

She did not answer, proceeding instead to a slew of other questions as her dark eyes locked into his making the rest of the room seem to fade away.

"Are you staying home?"

"That's the plan," he answered.

"Did you bring me a toy?"

"No," he said.

He felt like a heel despite the scolding scoff he heard from Pepper. Morgan surely heard and understood it but strategically ignored the sound, which let Tony know he was apparently the weak link in the parental chain of command in this family. That did not surprise him.

"Can you read me two stories tonight?" Morgan asked.

"How many do you normally get?" he wondered.

"Can you read me three stories?" she countered with a wider grin in what was obviously her attempt at bargaining up.

"Can you give me an answer to my first question?" he asked.

She smiled as though caught doing something wrong that made her proud. It was a beaming grin so bright it made his eyes water and his head spin. _She's like me_, he thought, _but innocent._

"Three stories?" Tony shook his head. "Wait a second. Why am I the one doing on the work here? Why aren't you the one reading to me? You're like what, 25? You can read, can't you?"

The giggle rolled through her starting in her toes and rippling upward.

"No," Morgan laughed.

"No, what?" he asked, jostling her in his lap.

"I'm four," she continued to chortle.

"That's hardly an excuse," Tony said. "Besides, I asked you like three questions. I need more answers. Are telling me you can't read? What do you do for a living? Don't you have job?"

"No, I'm kid," she replied as she began squirming with excess energy that built exponentially on her giggles.

"So, no job and you can't read?" Tony surmised.

"I read," she insisted between gulps of air as silly waves rolled off of her

"Okay then, we can fix part of your problem," Tony continued. "You're hired. You read to me. That'll be a job for you."

"I get paid?" she asked in a giddy voice getting higher with each second as her legs began to kick and flail in excitement.

"Paid?" he questioned. "You live here for free. You don't pay rent. You don't buy your food. You don't pay any of the bills. Why should you get paid?"

Pepper didn't wait for the discussion to continue. Morgan's rapid limb movements mixed with uncontrollable laughter and a general mood of free-for-all added up to trouble in her book no matter the circumstance. Her mind flashed quickly to the way Tony passed out when his blood pressure went haywire at the base. She felt certain she could handle something like that, but Morgan was overtired and on an emotional roller coaster. Pepper wanted to avoid the evening taking a downturn.

"Okay," she cut in, halting the child's squirming legs and generally throwing a damper on the giggle fest. "Let's all calm down before dinner. Morgan, you have a stack of pictures for Daddy. Go get them from your room, okay? You can show those to him before we eat."

She didn't need telling twice. She scrambled quickly out of Tony's lap and had rounded the couch within seconds. Small feet could be heard climbing steps in another part of the house as Pepper reminded the child not to run on the stairs. Her departure left the room feeling a little colder and a lot quieter. Tony stood up and looked down the hall, waiting expectantly for her to return. Pepper stood beside him and slipped arms around him.

"She's amazing," he marveled.

"Yeah, that's why we decided to keep her," she said. "She's always been kind of like a drug for you, so pace yourself. She's got at least 20 pictures she's drawn recently, and there's usually a story that goes with them."

"Are they long stories?" he wondered.

"Frequently," she smirked.

"These better be good," Tony called toward the ceiling. "I don't like ugly pictures."

A peal of laughter was heard somewhere above them followed by a chuckle from Pepper. He turned to look at her as she offered him a watery smile.

"How much of that was inappropriate or wrong?" he asked pulling her closer, encouraged by her grin.

"None of it," she shook her head. "It's pretty much the way you always play with her when she's in this kind of mood. She's young and hasn't been to school so she still thinks you're funny."

"Ouch," he whispered but knew he was smiling. "So, she's the cute one; I'm the one fun one; and you're just mean. Do I have that right?"

"Just keep the rambunctiousness to a minimum," Pepper advised. "You're not 100 percent yet."

"I feel fine," he shrugged then leaned forward and kissed her neck. "Better than fine."

Pepper sighed and caressed his cheek, forcing him to look at her. Her face was still glowing with excitement, but there was concern in her eyes as small feet were heard descending the stairs then traversing the hallway at a greater rate of speed.

"Tony," she said, "even Morgan noticed that you're not. Asking if you have a cold is a four-year-old's way of saying you don't look well. Take it easy. If you feel like you did at the base, don't keep it to yourself. No secrets—not even ones to keep us from worrying, okay? I'm making that a rule."

He grimaced.

"Me and rules," he grimaced. "That's not always a good fit because, as a rule, I don't like rules."

"Me neither," Morgan added as she arrived between them.

She handed Tony her stack of papers stiff with paint and curling with heavy crayon strokes. Without warning, she planted a foot on his leg then gripped his clothing and shimmied up him like she was climbing a tree. She nestled herself in the crook of his arm with her legs around his waist and an arm latched onto his shoulder with practiced agility.

"Are there are lot of rules here?" he asked her and received an exaggerated nod. "I don't know what they are."

"Mommy does," Morgan pointed.

"I think maybe you should teach me so I don't get in trouble from Mommy," Tony said. "I mean, I've been gone a while. I've forgotten nearly everything except your name. I don't even know where anything is in the house."

Pepper patted his shoulder, leaving the two of them together, impressed at the skill it took to convince a clever child they were playing a game in which she needed to tell him all the important facts of the house, all the while using it as a means to learn what he needed to know without tipping off the little girl he had no memory of her or their lives. Morgan jumped at the chance to be the authority. Pepper heard her feet hit the floor as she left her normally preferred perch of resting in her father's arms.

"I can show you," she offered and began tugging him down the hall. "Upstairs is my room."

"Pep?" he called.

"Take the tour," she responded from the kitchen. "Have her wash her hands before she comes down. We're eating in 15 minutes."

They disappeared, leaving Pepper to the kitchen. She spied a message blinking on her phone. It was from Rhodes, asking for an update. She tapped back a response that everything was fine and left open an invitation for him to drop by the next day for dinner if he wanted to do so. She was frustrated at his resistance, but she thought Tony's take that it was just his friend trying to watch out for their welfare was accurate. As she replied, she listened to the chatter upstairs with tears of relief blistering in her eyes.

"You have this whole room to yourself?" Tony asked. "One person can make this much of a mess?"

"It was picked up this morning," Morgan replied without sounding like the urge to return to a state of orderliness was on her agenda.

"What occurred between then and now?"

"A lot just happened," she suggested in a tone that screamed to Pepper there was a patented Stark shoulder shrug occurring.

"Oh, the old _it just happened_ excuse," Tony groaned. "Kid, I used that for like 30 years. No one ever buys it. You know, if you leave you stuff all over like this, I might have to sell it."

"You always say that," Morgan giggled not the least bit worried about the threat. "Here. Hold my llama."

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to…," Tony began. "Wait. Are you sure this is a llama? It looks more like an alpaca."

**oOoOo**

True to her promise to explain life in the house to Tony, Morgan kept up her training straight through the evening. There were a lot of things to learn, like "after a fork is washed fork, if you drop it when you're drying it and then step on it, it's not considered clean anymore." That reveal raised Pepper's eyebrows as she did not recall teaching that lesson and made a mental note to ask Happy if he had any recollection when she asked him about the bird home invasion. Tony took all of the information with an accepting nod, the barest hints of a smirk, and precious few questions. It seemed to Pepper he was simply hooked on listening to the child ramble. She, too, enjoyed the lengthy discussion as it was the most she'd heard her daughter speak in weeks.

Bedtime arrived and while it would have been easy to buckle to a request for more than one story, Pepper held firm. She was surprised when Morgan asked her to read it, but it turned out that was just the last leg of her evening of teaching. Tony was told to stand in the doorway and listen so he remembered how to do it right the next night. The scrunched-eyed grin the child gave him when he offered her a thumbs up looked like code for Morgan changing the rules for him the next night to get more than one book in before lights out. Whatever the plan, just as Pepper finished the book about the ladybugs who lived under the big pine tree, Morgan's eyes shut and her face when slack with sleep.

As she left the room, she nudged Tony from the doorway.

"You're not standing here all night to watch her," she whispered as she tugged his arm for him to follow. "I broke you from that habit when she was three weeks old. You're not starting it again."

She led him down the hall to the larger bedroom that faced the lake. Again, he looked at the space and didn't feel an iota of recognition. The feeling was disheartening. Not remembering a living room or a kitchen was one thing, but the room where he slept with his wife for five years? No matter how much he wanted this to be his life in the past, he was teetering on the edge of certain that wasn't the case. The bigger issue for him was whether it could be his for the future.

"I don't know any of this," he admitted as Pepper closed the bedroom door.

"You do," she nodded. "You've just misplaced some of your memories."

"Or I never had them," he offered. "It's a possibility. How could I ever have forgotten her?"

She shook her head at his doubt. Her confidence had not wavered. In fact, that evening it solidified. There were little thing, unconscious things, he'd done that were deeper than conscious memory: reaching blindly into a drawer to grab a utensil Pepper requested without telling him where to search for it; casually calling Morgan "Morgoona" while they chatted; or not questioning her goodnight message involving the number 3000. Pepper knew she might never understand the forces that brought him back to them, but the how was not important. What she did know was that Tony was home, and she was never letting anything take him away. The trick would be turning off the circuits in his brain fighting against accepting that he belonged.

"Do you want to leave?" Pepper asked. Her voice was calm and even, signaling she already knew his answer and it did not worry her.

"No," he shook his head as he pointed at the closed door. "I just keep thinking… worrying that… Okay, I know this is going to sound a little out there, but just hear me out because even though sanity tells me it's not possible, I keep worrying that…"

Pepper shook her head and stood in front of him wearing a frank expression as she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before draping her arms over his shoulders.

"You're worried another version of you, the 'right' you, will suddenly walk in here and this will turn into some bad 90s comedy movie about a cloned husband?" she ventured as he blinked in surprise then nodded. "See, I knew what you were thinking because only my husband would come up with an off-the-wall reference to a Michael Keaton movie he's never seen but that Happy watched once and…"

"And spent an entire flight to Germany questioning me about cloning possibilities," Tony finished. "It was the only time I ever considered firing Happy."

"I know, but that's not my point," Pepper assured him. "My point is that you're Tony Stark. There's only one of you. You're here, where you belong, where we want you to be."

"If I am your guy, then technically there are two of us," he offered. "You buried the other one."

She frowned instantly then closed her eyes as she took a deep breath to steady herself. Although the remark hurt to hear, it also further proved to her that he was her husband. Only Tony would say something so insensitive in this moment to make a point.

"Don't," she warned him. "None of that is a joke or funny. It never will be."

He hung his head but noted with relief she didn't move away from him. The strength of the woman in front of him always amazed Tony. She'd put up with him in manic times, in hedonistic times, in bad times, in painful times, and even now when she had the chance to be rid of him for her own sanity and Morgan's, she stood firm. Pepper was unflappable, unswaying, and perfect in every way. There was no version of him, anywhere or any time, that deserved her because on top of accepting into her home and life someone who was at the very least a refugee from a time and place unknown, her concern remained squarely with him.

"Sorry," he apologized. "You didn't need to hear that."

"No," she agreed warmly. "You've had a lot thrown at you tonight. How are you doing?"

"It's a lot to take in," Tony said looking pleasantly bewildered. "But… I want it. You deserve a medal, a national holiday, a country of your own as a reward because, Pep, Morgan is amazing. She's perfect. I mean, I guess most fathers think their kid is great, you know except mine, but I'm certain she is actually flawless."

"That's not true," Pepper shook her head but he paid no attention.

"We could measure that empirically and publish a paper on it," he continued. "She's like you. She's smart and beautiful and funny. She not even five yet, but she already understands sarcasm better than most US Senators. You don't look surprised I'm saying this."

She wasn't and let him know he had been making those observations about their daughter's alleged perfection for four years, two months, and 12 days—basically since an hour after her birth. She informed him of this and the extreme lengths to which he carried that opinion.

"The first time she rolled over on her own," she recalled, "you contemplating calling MIT to see if they would admit her into a doctoral program since she was only three months old, and the average age for doing that is four months."

"Obviously, she's advanced," he nodded stating his conclusion from the time. "What did MIT say?"

Pepper chuckled and pulled him into a hug that sent pleasant shocks all through his body as she laughed into the crook of his neck while informing him he was pathetic.

"I doubt they said that," he replied returning the embrace as his feeling lightheadedness began to seep out of his system and an enjoyable fog filtered into his brain, quieting the ream of questions scrolling through his gray matter. "They love me."

"Tony," she said in a tone that indicated they'd the discussion before, "Morgan is four. She's going to kindergarten in September, not college. She needs to learn how to play nice with others and be away from home for 8 hours each day without one of us being within earshot constantly."

He sighed and dropped his arms. She spied a frown on his face and questioned it.

"You're pouting," she noticed. "Why?"

"It's not pouting," he shook his head. "She's going to school next year. I have less than a year to make up for the last four."

"Ah, but you get the chance to check her homework," Pepper encouraged with a teasing grin. "You don't get to do it for her, but you can double check it."

"Fine," he huffed. "We're agreed that she's kicking ass at every science fair, right? Take no prisoners attitude. The kid next to her can build a stupid volcano. Morgan's building a cold fusion reactor. Wait. Does she even like science? If she's into poetry, I'm screwed."

He paused as a look of horror washed over his tired features. Pepper laughed at his worry as she placed her hands on either side of his face.

"She likes crayons, glitter, and stuffed animals," she informed him.

Tony chewed his lip contemplatively. Colors were light refraction—that was physics. Glitter was… pointless. Animals were zoology, which he couldn't seem to find deeply interesting. He sighed at meeting that dead end in information gathering.

"I built a circuit board when I was four," he noted.

"You were a freak of nature," Pepper smiled. "Your daughter is an individual in her own way. She does like watching you work. I don't know what she understands what you do out there, but I know she's a fan of all things you. Now, time to shut down the Morgan zone in your head for the night."

Her expression had changed. The joyful mom-grin she wore when watching Morgan give Tony his house orientation was gone. There was another look in Pepper's eyes, one he did recognize and that drew a sly smile on his lips.

"If I'm not contemplating her spectacular future," he asked pulling her closer, "what should I concentrate on, Miss Potts?"

A hungry grin was her reply and found him leaning forward kissing her. He felt the heat rush from her skin before he saw the reaction with his eyes. She was blushing (actually and truly, like the night he officially proposed and she actually accepted). As she trembled in his arms, she brushed a hand through his hair. Her voice was fragile with tears.

"You're not already overwhelmed and exhausted for the night?" she smiled hopefully.

"I think I've got 15," he began then paused and tilted his head, "okay, maybe 12 good minutes left in me."

**oOoOo**

The world was growing blurry. Banner rubbed his mighty fists into his eyes and loosed a yawn/growl that might have scared a lab assistant (if he had one). He had been staring at test results on the computer for the better part of four hours. It didn't matter how many permutations or simulations or scenarios he ran. They all added up to the same thing.

Or, rather, they just didn't add up. At all. Not one bit.

He sighed forcefully as he rammed his glasses back onto his large, green nose.

"That doesn't sound encouraging," Rhodes observed as he entered the room. "What's up?"

"My blood pressure," Banner replied as he hung his head. "Also my suspicions, which is never a good thing. I don't like not trusting the people I work around. I'm used to it, but I never liked it. What are you doing here at this hour? I thought you and your beauty queen friend had plans for the weekend."

Rhodes shrugged. He'd canceled his plans to go to the city when he was told the security was in place to send Tony to Pepper's house. That's how he thought about it. It wasn't Tony' home, and that bothered him. One-on-one, he could forget that his friend was dead. The guy in front of him was Tony, but there was something about him leaving the base and stepping into Tony's life that didn't sit right with Rhodes. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Part of it was worry about Pepper and Morgan. Sure, Pepper was a rational woman who made solid decisions and would never endanger herself or her family, but this was so far outside the realm of anything she'd ever faced before.

"Change of plans," Rhodes said. "What are you looking at?"

"Gross incompetence, I think," Banner pushed away from the desk. "Have you seen Tony today? How's he doing?"

Rhodes shook his head. He'd opted not to stop by to see him that day to avoid any tense or discouraging conversations. He'd said his peace to Pepper regarding what he thought was her jumping at replacing her dead husband. Rhodes didn't doubt Tony, this one, held similar feelings for her and would be just as devoted. His issue was the insult he perceived to his lost friend. There was also the point of not thinking it was wise to let this man leave the secure facility. Keeping him a secret at the base was hard. Letting him out into the world and hoping for the best (Sam's security perimeter notwithstanding) was asking for trouble.

"I hadn't asked Fury to put me on the approved visitors list yet," Banner said. "After what I'm seeing here, I think it's time I get the nod."

"What are you talking about?" Rhodes asked.

Banner's assignment was still to figure out what brought this man into their world. He'd tried everything he knew about backtracking to determine the source of the energy signature that prompted his discovery but came up empty. He'd looked at all other possible scenarios, including time travel, but he didn't have enough information or experience in some of these scientific disciplines to make much headway. What he needed was someone who understood physics, the mind-bending kind that only the truly gifted (or twisted) understood. What he needed, in short, was Tony. After reaching that conclusion, Banner realized he was ignoring the biggest clue of all: the man himself.

"I've been reviewing Tony's medical works ups," he answered. "I don't want to disparage a man's knowledge and training, but I don't see how it's possible that Dr. Tanis missed all these red flags."

"What flags?"

"These," Banner said.

He turned his screen to reveal histology, toxicology, endocrinology, and phlebotomy, and cardiology reports. There were numbers and graphs and readings that made no sense to Rhodes. Weapons and tactics for using them were his specialty, not medicine.

"What does this tell you?" Rhodes asked.

"Nothing good," Banner said with a depressed sigh. "How much do you know about Tanis?"

"Not much," Rhodes shrugged. "He's calm in a crisis. He worked with Fury's people in the past. He didn't vanish when the world got ashy so he's been around. Why?"

"Well, he's not much of a doctor," Banner said. "He ruled Tony's just got anemia and fatigue. That's accurate, but that's not all he's got. Or I should say, those are symptoms of whatever it that's really wrong with him. I just don't see how a doctor who knows how to read a serology report could miss some of this."

Rhodes eyed him sharply.

"Is it serious?"

"I've never seen anything like it so I can't say," Banner replied. "I know if this was my patient, I'd have run a lot more tests. His cardiac rhythm alone is screaming for a full time heart monitor to rule out whether he needs a pacemaker to fix this erratic beat. I don't think his fainting spells are from anemia and low blood sugar alone. It's the electrical charge that keeps his heart beating that's the problem. The anemia is also a problem for me because we don't know what's causing it."

Rhodes reminded him of the hemorrhaging episodes he'd witnessed. That drew a furrow in Banner's brow and turned the corners of his mouth downward in a deep frown.

"There's nothing about aspirating blood or a nose bleed in the notes," he shook his head.

"That's not possible," Rhodes shook his head. "Both times after it happened, Tanis ran a bunch of tests and scans on Tony. He told Fury and Pepper a week ago that all that showed just a small brain bleed, but there was no evidence of any concussion or soft tissue damage so it was nothing to worry about."

Banner blinked. Tony had had multiple concussions. He often sported black eyes nearly as prominently as his goatee after seeing action in his armor. There was no way there was no evidence of concussions in his past. Further, only four things caused brain bleeds: concussions, aneurisms, tumors, and strokes. All were major medical concerns. All required close monitoring. Calling any one of them nothing, without documenting any testing to actually see the source of the problem, was negligent.

"Now I really want to talk to this guy," Banner said. "I've been trying to get him on the phone for the last two days, but he's not calling me back."

"I haven't seen him around," Rhodes shook his head. "Is Tony in danger?"

The sudden spike of worry in his chest frustrated Rhodes. He was worried about Pepper taking the man into her life; he was just as worried about something bad happening to the guy to take him out of all of their lives. He clenched his jaw at the opposing feelings and silently cursed the man at the center. Only Tony could tie him into these kind of knots.

"I think he needs close monitoring," Banner said. "Whatever's wrong with him, it's not going to go away just because he gets to go home relax and watch the sun set over the lake."

**oOoOo**


	11. Chapter 11

**oOoOo**

Bucky figured that whether something was actually torture was a question for history to decide.

Certainly, violent and abusive acts could be easily ruled torture. Breaking bones, severing limbs, removing digits, puncturing skin—all were definitely on the list of stuff that got a gold star in torture. He had experience in all of those. However, whether locking someone up in a room and holding him there against his will (for what the confining party felt were thoroughly justified reasons) honestly constituted a violation of the Geneva Convention was a matter of debate in his book.

The room was 10 x 10—bigger than the bedroom Bucky had as a kid in Brooklyn, and unlike his bedroom, this one had heat and running water. There was a bed and a window. Granted, the bed was bolted to the floor and the mattress was old and lumpy; also, the window was blocked with bars and a lot of grimy film on the outside, but it came that way. He didn't put up the barriers. They were just on the abandoned apartment building when he found it and began squatting there. Also, his unwilling guest got three meals a day, which was more than Bucky got when the Axis Powers captured him in Italy in WWII.

He also knew he'd been a better prisoner than this guy. This guy never tried to escape. He spent his time whining and crying and offering to tell Bucky whatever he wanted to know. The thing was, Bucky knew pretty much everything he needed to know about Dr. Dominick Tanis when he kidnapped him. He was only holding the guy captive to get the attention of the people he worked for. So far, no one of those parties seemed all that interested in finding him. After spending more than a week together, Bucky could understand why.

"Please," he heard Tanis begging yet again from the other side of the door where he was held. "I swear, I'll tell you everything I've seen and heard working for these people. I can be a huge help to you."

"There is one thing you can do," Bucky groaned while he kicked his feet on the table and rocked back on the legs of his chair in the outer room. "I've got this recurring headache."

"Of course," Tanis agreed. "I'm a doctor. I can help with that. When does it start?"

"Every time you open your mouth," Bucky replied over his shoulder as he looked at the string of messages on his phone. "Know a cure for that?"

The silence from the room was adequate confirmation as he thumbed through a week worth of texts and voicemail turned to text. There were only two people responsible for the dozen messages: Steve and Sam. Steve's messages let him know Sam was keeping secrets by virtue of not mentioning any of the concerns Bucky brought to Sam about the Starks or the people working for Fury. Steve mostly checked in—sounding fatherly and inviting him to drop by if he was in the neighborhood. Bucky replied to those with vague promises to seeing him soon while offering jokes about getting him to the diner for the Early Bird Special. It was odd having a best friend who was now a lot closer to their actual age and looking it. Bucky was glad for the life Steve got to lead; he'd more than earned it, but it was still an adjustment for Bucky. There would come a day in a few years when he would lay Steve Rogers to rest, and he dreaded that.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and turned his mind to Sam's messages—the ones he wasn't answering. Sam's texts were growing from frustrated to bordering on pissed with a dash of desperation. He still wasn't sure he believed Bucky, but definitely wanted to chat again. That was as close as an admission that he was wrong as Bucky figured he was ever likely to get out of Sam, but he'd take it.

"What the hell," he shrugged as he dialed the man's number. "It's the start of the holiday season."

**oOoOo**

The hardest part about Tony returning to her life for Pepper was maintaining an even disposition when away from the house. It would raise red flags if she came into the office beaming the way she did waking each morning to rediscover her best friend and the love of her life curled up beside her. She did not like deceiving anyone, but she also could not fake grief she no longer felt.

Convincing her immediate staff at the office that she was not on the verge of a breakdown proved difficult initially, but eventually they just assumed she was adopting her late husband's eccentric approach to defying expectations by simply ignoring them and doing as she pleased. Since returning full-time to her CEO capacity after Morgan's birth, Pepper typically went to the office three days each week and worked from her home office the other two. She returned to that schedule as soon as it was apparent that the Tony and Morgan show could run itself daily without her needing to step in and be the babysitter. Granted, the two had a penchant for leaving a debris field of toys, books, puzzles wherever they spend the majority of their day, but stern reminders from Pepper usually righted the situation.

After returning to her schedule, Pepper's executive assistant asked discretely if she was taking medication because she seemed much better, lighter, and more rested than she had in recent weeks. Pepper's response that she was merely turning her eyes to the future got a nod and a frozen smile. Within days, there was concern floating around that she was in crippling denial. When she soundly dealt with a rebellion by Board members to back out of a proposed contract to commit an increased percentage of the research division's budget to medical research, a new story began making the rounds. There was no doubt that the boss was truly back on her A-game.

The explanation for that was scandalous. There was a suspicion of a new man in her life already. Happy quickly squelched those rumors with some piercing stares and gruff throat clearing with stern head shakes, but even he was worried when Pepper stopped bringing Morgan with her. Learning she had a "helper" in the house he had not cleared made him both worried and jealous. The kid was his responsibility on in-office days when Pepper was in meetings. Happy was pretty sure that's what Tony would have wanted.

However, Pepper weathered whispers and sly looks that she observed by simply ignoring them and sticking to business. She arrived by helicopter to the New York City office by 8 a.m. each day and left promptly at 4:30, taking all of her after-hours and foreign office teleconferences from home. Staying on schedule and returning to the old routine, she decided, was the way to rebuild stability. That she had something more than a lonely house and sullen child to go home to each night made diving headlong into that routine easier. That she had Tony waiting for her each night (and constantly enticing her to linger in bed each morning) was both invigorating and a struggle she enjoyed.

Thanksgiving arrived with a general feeling of optimism in the U.S. that Pepper shared. So many families were reunited after long absences. There were still many problems accompanying those returns, but worries about jobs and how to continue to move forward after losing so much time could not dampen the feeling of relief to have those who were lost back. Happy worried when Pepper told him she planned to spend the holiday at home without any visitors but claimed he understood. He had plans with Peter and his aunt. Pepper sensed Happy wanted to invite her to join them to soothe his own lingering grief (and possibly give Peter some much needed solace as he slogged through life as a high school student with a secret identity and an aching heart over the loss of his hero and mentor), but Fury's security requirements (and Tony's persistent adamancy) preventing them from bringing anybody in on their tightly held secret.

Pepper harbored a growing worry about isolated Tony was. He showed no signs of even wanting anyone to know he was alive. He didn't even go out to the garage to his workshop. Instead, he spent his days attending to Morgan and his nights catering to Pepper. As family time went, it was utterly perfect. From a security standpoint, his reclusiveness also made sense, but from a mental health perspective, Pepper held a different opinion. Those people who Tony trusted most could certainly be relied upon to keep his secret as long as necessary. That he was showing no signs of wanting to contact them was troubling and made it onto her evening agenda the week after the kick off of the holiday season.

She arrived home to the cold and dark of late autumn to find snow covering the ground around the house where there had merely been a heavy frost in the morning. The lights were on but the house was oddly subdued as she entered. There was no discussion going on about who built the better tower with blocks that afternoon or whose turn it was to pick up the toys that were definitely not where they belonged. Pepper walked to the heart of the house, the open kitchen and living room space, to find the fire crackling behind the grate and the two dark-haired residents cuddled together sleeping on the couch—one clutching a book and the other holding tight to her.

Pepper smiled as she leaned over the couch and ran her fingers through Tony's hair causing him to stir and wake. He grinned lazily and moved his free arm slightly in an invitation for her to partake in the group nap but received a shake of the head followed swiftly by a sharp, wincing gasp from her.

"Ouch," Pepper hissed in sympathy as she stroked his temple. "How did that happen?"

"What?" he shrugged.

She informed him about a sizable bruise that was blooming outside of his eye and in that corner, the white of it was completely red like someone had just poked him.

"I barely feel it," he said then touched the spot and winced. "Must have happened when she tossed a block to me while we picked a little bit earlier today. It hit the side of the toy box and bounced. It didn't even hurt at the time. Think she's got a career as a major league pitcher?"

Pepper grinned and chuckled but also made sympathetic noises.

"All I'm hearing is that you somehow got beat up by a little girl," she remarked. "And to think, there were so many times I wanted to hit you, but I refrained because I thought it was inappropriate."

"Too late now," he replied. "Statute of limitations. How's life at the hive?"

He asked the question with quiet disdain. Tony had never enjoyed the daily tasks of running Stark Industries. He fully understood how to run a corporation. His heart was just never in it. His interest always in the research and development. Like his father before him, he was an inventor, an engineer who thrived in creating things that never before existed. Budget meetings, finance meetings, planning meetings, departmental meetings, meetings of any kind drove him nuts because he hated meetings of any kind. They brought out the juvenile rebellion side of his personality. It was that distaste for the business side the corporation that prompted him to previously turn over the reins to Obadiah Stane, which eventually changed the course of Tony's life irrevocably and (by extreme extension) the entire universe.

His latest issue with the day-to-day business at Stark Industries was the rumor mill Pepper had casually mentioned. It was churning up tales regarding the CEO's apparent sudden recovery from grief. She only told him about it as something humorous and a break from his constant focus on Morgan. For someone who usually quickly saw the humor in most situations, Tony's ability to find something funny ceased when it included disparaging innuendos about Pepper Potts. For someone who had never cared much what his company or stockholders thought of him, he didn't extend that thick skin approach to talk about her.

"You're not responsible for wagging tongues, nor do I need a knight in shining armor to defend my virtue," she assured him. "People can think I've mastered my grief in any way they choose."

"Mastered your grief?" he repeated. "They think you're doing sheet therapy." He paused and laced his fingers through hers as he grinned deviously. "Of course, they're not wrong about that. Still, they shouldn't talk about you that way."

"So are you mad that's what they think or that they think I've replaced you so swiftly?" she wondered. "Because if it's the second one, you're really off the rails. You know the truth, Tony. You can do a lot of things, but I don't think you can logically be jealous of yourself."

He raised his eyebrows then nodded as he considered her remark. Whether he was agreeing with her or internally musing that he could indeed have envy of himself, she did not pursue. Instead, she questioned the aftermath-of-a-tornado appearance of the room.

"That is not our fault," Tony whispered as Morgan twitched in her sleep but remained in dreamland. "There were a lot of rules to how the day unfolded—Morgan made up most of them. For instance, she told me the gray birds that land on the dock scared away her chipmunk friends. That means _we_ don't like the gray birds anymore."

"We?" Pepper asked doubtfully.

"Hey, no questions asked," he replied. "This family is now in a feud with world's entire population of doves."

"Or, you could explain to her that the chipmunks just run away sometimes," she suggested.

"Look, I don't make the rules in this gang," he said. "I just play my role. Oh, by the way, you might want to pick your feet up. Floor is lava."

Pepper groaned. "You had to teach her that?"

"She either learns it here in a safe and controlled environment or in a college dorm without appropriate supervision," he shrugged. "I think you'll agree this is the better choice."

"Of course it is," Pepper rolled her eyes. "Was it necessary to make the room look like a…?"

Before she finished, he uttered his personal philosophy that to figure things out sometimes you needed to break some eggs. He promised (yet again) that they would (in theory) try harder the next day to make less of a mess or (failing that) have things picked up before Pepper got home. Her sigh spoke volumes of doubt on the likelihood of success for any of those endeavors as she had heard the vow multiple times and seeing it through never seemed to last a week.

"We won't even be in here tomorrow," he relented. She tilted her head in question. "I was thinking of going out the garage finally to see what there is out there of interest. Maybe she and I can build a robot to pick up after us. See, that would be educational and helpful."

Pepper nodded. It was the first step away from being a house recluse he'd suggested in weeks. She decided it was the opening she was looking for to spring her plans for the evening on him.

"How long has she been asleep?" she asked.

Tony twisted and peered at his watch, feeling the pins and needles of a sleeping arm under Morgan's weight. He squinted, finding the face hard to see through suddenly cloudy vision that cleared itself with hard blink. The timepiece reported it was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but the darkened windows and Pepper's arrival made that impossible.

"No idea," he answered. "My watched stopped again. That's the second one in a month."

"The winding box must be broken," Pepper noted. "Peel her off you and let her sleep a little while longer. I need to talk to you without your parrot and shadow present."

"That doesn't sound fun," he grumbled but obeyed her direction shifting Morgan so that she gripped a pillow rather than him.

In the kitchen, Pepper folded her arms in her patented "_you aren't going to like this but you are going to listen_" stance. Tony leaned against the cabinets and waited for a lecture.

"I think it's time we do a soft release of information about you," she began.

"What happened?" he asked with his voice taking a serious tone. "Somebody leaked?"

"No," she shook her head. "But I think it's time somebody did: you. It's time your friends know."

Tony shrugged indolently and stated that Rhodes already knew; he acted awkward and stilted any time he came to the house. There was a plan to tell Happy in person when he came at Christmas. Tony and Pepper thought it best to break the news to him after he arrived to avoid him getting arrested for driving Mach-5 from the city to their home in an effort to verify that the information was true. Tony's former driver and bodyguard would also need a few days to process the news so taking a few days off at Christmas would raise fewer suspicions than before the holiday as Happy rarely took days off at any time of the year.

"Happy and Rhodey aren't your only friends," Pepper said. "Tony, you've known these people for years. You all went through a lot together. You fought alongside them. They…."

"Frequently disagreed with me," he offered. "Vision was the only one who was at least reasonable about it."

"Vision is dead," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded and folded his arms tightly as he felt the rage ripple through him at what he was told Thanos did to the living incarnation of JARVIS. "Wanda probably doesn't want to see me for that reason. I never was her favorite anyway." Pepper sighed in frustration as he continued to explain his position. "Look, Sam is playing Overlord keeping an eye on this place, so he's in the know. Banner apparently knows and is more interested in other things as he tries to unravel the mystery of what got me here than actually seeing me. I'll admit, that one kind of hurts. Romanoff, of course…" He sighed and felt his throat tighten as Natasha's face flashed in his mind but he cleared his throat as he pushed forward. "She gets to use Vision's excuse—so two off the hook. I wouldn't expect Barton to give a damn. He's Mr. Stoic usually. Rhodey let it slip that Thor is gallivanting with that moron Quill. I wouldn't mind if the blue meanie dropped by, but Nebula's a member of Crew Quill, which is a good thing for him. I hold out hope she can knock some sense into him… Or maybe just hit him for pleasure once in a while. I'm actually ambivalent about that. So, that's the spectrum."

Pepper sighed and stepped closer as she rubbed his arm.

"You left out Steve," she started.

"Uh, no," Tony said without pause for consideration. "Not ready for that chat. I don't know what I might say. Yelling at him might feel good."

"You did that already."

"Well, I don't recall the pleasure of it," he said testily.

"And what about Peter?" she asked and watched a different kind of hurt, one born of suffocating guilt feelings wrestle behind his eyes.

"Definitely not," he refused. "The kid is better off far, far from me."

Her eyes flooded for the pain she saw him holding. She also felt guilt over knowing what his brothers-in-arms did not know: that Tony no longer needed to be grieved. He saw her imploring expression but shook his head.

"They're getting on with their lives, and we should let them do that," he said. "Apparently, Cap is enjoying the AARP lifestyle and probably needs naps as often as Morgan. As for Pete… The kid is back at school where he belongs. I say we leave him in the dark to submit college applications and find a girlfriend. Dr. Strange Cloak and I didn't really make a connection but if the wizard is as smart as he acts, he'll already know about this. Now, if I had Wong's number, I might text him otherwise—."

He stopped abruptly and pressed his palm tightly to his ear and winced, closing one eye in the process as a high pitched whistle sounded. He forced his closing eye open and looked at her as she stared back worried but oblivious to the problem.

"Tony?"

"I'm guessing you don't hear that?" he seethed.

"No," she reached for his face and felt his cheek. "You feel awfully warm. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, but I definitely heard you just say you find me hot," he force a lecherous grin then worked his jaw as the ringing stopped as abruptly as it began. Pepper returned a flat stare. "I'm fine. Someone was apparently just someone taking my name in vein, which kind of emphasizes the point I was making. I say we let everyone go on with their lives and leave me out of them. They're all adjusting to life as it is now. Some of them just returned. It's not easy coming back after being dead."

Pepper sighed in a perturbed way prompting Tony to hang is head in contrition. He found her edict not to make light of dying difficult and frequently trampled on that forbidden ground.

"I meant from my other previous experiences of being thought dead but not actually dying," he explained. "Obviously, what I've got going on now is a first."

She gritted her teeth and put both of her hands fully around his face then sighed. She laced her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist to pull her closer.

"There are moments when I just…," she shook her head. "Then I remember that you're just gonna be you."

"Well, being someone else at this point would just be ridiculous," he replied.

"I think the only thing ridiculous here is you, Mr. Stark," she scolded softly with a sigh.

"We're back to the _Mr. Stark_ routine?" Tony grinned. "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Potts? Because you've got about a 112 percent chance of it working."

She dropped her head in defeat and chuckled softly. The opportunity to shift the subject and the tension in the room was too great for him to pass over. He took hold of one of her hands began shuffling his feet knowing she would instinctively join him in the dance despite the lack of music.

"Dancing without music?" Pepper asked.

"I'm keeping time to that ringing in my ears," he offered.

He took that moment to dip her, eliciting a surprised but tickled yelp from her. He leaned forward to seek her lips for his own but found his efforts thwarted as Morgan appeared in the room scrubbing her eyes with her fists as a tight knot puckered her lips.

"What are you doing?" the little girl asked.

"Uh, rethinking the wisdom of an open concept floor plan," Tony remarked as Pepper slipped free of his gasp and lifted the child to greet her.

"Daddy is being silly and not listening to me very well," Pepper said laying a kiss on Morgan's head.

"Again?" she giggled.

"Hey, I'm good at it," he said. "Mommy didn't believe there was lava on the floor so apparently the toys didn't get buried after all. Did you pick up that mess up yet? 'Cause I was getting in trouble for it."

"You helped," Morgan challenged.

"Well, I'm good at making messes—Mommy and I were just discussing that—but she has higher hopes for you," Tony replied then lifted her away from Pepper. "Let Mommy get settled now that she's home. You can show me how to pick up since I didn't pay attention the last time."

"Tony, we're not done talking about this," Pepper warned.

"You mean you're not," he answered lightly. "I've said my bit. Now, I'm dealing with a mess I can handle."

She sighed. Peter deserved to have the weight of grieving Tony lifted. The recently returned high school senior was utterly lost and heartbroken at the funeral. And if anyone would understand what Tony was going through, it was Steve Rogers. He'd lost years of his life then returned to find astounding changes. He also could explain to Tony how they had reconciled. The trick would be getting (maybe forcing?) Tony to recognize that going it alone didn't protect anyone.

"Is Happy coming to play soon?" Morgan asked as she scurried around the room grabbing toys and books that she stacked on the table in a haphazard order.

"Coming to play?" Tony repeated with a lilt of delight in his voice that only Morgan seemed to coax from him. "I really should have phrased his duties that way when he worked for me. It would have made everything so much easier. Do you know why I know Happy?"

The question was directed at Morgan. Pepper watched the two of them as Tony physically left her area to end their conversation; his strategy even included the measure of not even looking in her direction. He kept his back pointed to her in an amazingly familiar defensive technique of years ago: _turn your back on the problem and pretend it doesn't exist and it might go away_. It was the present-day equivalent of disappearing into the basement workshop he had at the Malibu house.

"Because he's your friend?" Morgan guessed.

"He became my friend because the mean Board of Directors took out an insurance policy on me that said I had to have someone follow me around," Tony explained and must have made a face because Morgan squealed with laughter.

"Like a babysitter?" she giggled.

"Exactly," Tony said. "Happy the nanny. You know, he could write an amazing book on those years… if he hadn't signed a binding non-disclosure agreement, that is."

Without showing any interest in what else he might say, Morgan grabbed an armful of her detritus and scampered from the room leaving Tony absent a distraction and an audience. He flapped his arms and shrugged.

"The magic has worn off," he said crestfallen.

"You've spent nearly every waking hour for the last few weeks enslaving yourself to her," Pepper noted from the kitchen where she had not budged. "Adult conversation is needed."

Like a scolded puppy, Tony wandered back to her pulled by the firm look in her eye. Still not interested in pursuing the discussion, he grinned at her then leaned close and nibbled on her neck.

"That's what you're for," he murmured.

"Mmm, which is wonderful," she said then nudged him away, "but you're hiding."

"I think the term is bonding," he suggested.

"You need to bond with someone other than me and a preschooler," Pepper insisted.

"She can actually read and do some math on about a 2nd grade level so…," he began.

"She has a bright academic future, but there's also something to be said about social development," she replied, "which, wow, what do you know? Brings me back to you, the house hermit."

Tony protested mildly claiming first he wasn't interested in company. When that made no dent in her stance, he said he wasn't ready.

"You're Tony Stark," she smiled and patted his face. "Since when do you need to be ready?"

He did not get a chance to answer for himself as Morgan streaked through the room, taking a circuitous route back to her toy maelstrom in the living room. She tossed off an encouraging answer before he could pose his next argument to Pepper.

"You can do it Daddy," she shouted.

"You have no idea what we're talking about," he remarked.

"You can do anything," she assured him before gathering up her books.

"Well, I'm having trouble getting out of this conversation," he noted as he sighed and folded his arms to face Pepper. "What do you want me to do? Airdrop a message saying: '_Hey, super peeps, FYI not dead; Merry Christmas_?' Then what?"

"Won't know until you do it," she encouraged.

"Okay," he nodded, "and what if the next day a hole opens up in the sky and monsters from space arrive and they're like: we're going into battle again, you in?"

Pepper sighed. That was a concern for her as well. The imminent arrival of a foe was not at the top of her worries, but Tony's desire to be ready at a moment's notice to jump into the fray and have his friends' backs was always strong. Despite his earlier dismissal of their friendships, those people meant a lot to him. He cared for them as people and took care of them as teammates, devoting time and resources to their needs without hesitation. Before she could utter her concerns, Morgan's head popped up from the couch with a curious and serious expression.

"Are there monsters in space?" she asked.

Tony answered swiftly over his shoulder without pause in a way that left Pepper once again amazed at the way his mind assessed a situation and sifted out a solution their child could handle with nearly no pause or trouble.

"Yes," he said but managed to tamp down all concern he felt about it, "but they're afraid of Mommy so we're always safe around her."

Morgan nodded, satisfied and unworried with the response as she went back to gathering her things and lugging them back to their proper place in her room.

"Tony, if anything happens, they have what they need to deal with it," Pepper said, stating more of a hope than a known fact. "There are the remaining Avengers, plus Captain Marvel and Peter Quill on Nick Fury's speed dial—Rhodey assured me of that."

Tony scoffed, mostly at the mention of Quill. Sure, he was good in a fight, but the guy lacked discipline (and coming from Tony Stark, that was saying something). The guy's best hope was Nebula. Tony knew he would go into battle with her again. Star-Lord wasn't what he'd call a brain trust. His grasp of basic math, and by grasp Tony meant utter lack of it, just stunned him. He sighed at thoughts of battles, old or new.

"I don't want to be in that world anymore," he shook his head. "That means not having contact with any of it. I'm content here, in this secluded spot, right now. The world is done with me and will forget me soon enough. While that's happening, I'll be here reading books, playing games, and make engines that run on ketchup with Morgan during the day. At night, you and I can…."

He had stepped closer to her and was wrapping his arms around her as she cocked her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow ruining his amorous mood with her perplexed expression.

"Ketchup?" Pepper blinked.

"See, I had a whole list of things I'd like to be doing with you at night I was about to suggest when you cut me off," he remarked. "It was a good list."

"Engines that run on ketchup?" she persisted.

Tony groaned and hung his head before offering a little explanation for the interesting idea he had while listening to Morgan explain the idea of explosive ketchup being like lava after a mess they made while prepping for lunch that day.

"It's only in the concept phase right now," he said. "I'm not talking about bio-fuel, either. That's no better than a petroleum base. I'm thinking about the power of photosynthesis—an actual safe non-human application for the base formula behind the Extremis project. I didn't think to do anything more with it once I solved your issue. Today, it occurred to me that the concept has other possibilities like generating kinetic energy for a polymer engine that runs on organic material and expels a breathable combination of hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, like a plant does. From there, it could be considered a means for home heating, which further steps away from fossil fuels. Both of those would counter act the carbon emissions and significantly reduce the greenhouse effect, perhaps by as much as half. In 10 years, the atmosphere could have returned to nearly pre-Industrial Revolution levels."

Pepper nodded, again encouraged by this sign he was thinking beyond just being Morgan's favorite toy. Tony had a world-class mind that needed to do research. He needed to invent and create. His family brought him peace, but his ability to solve problems brought him fulfillment. He needed both in balance to achieve happiness.

"Leave her out of the heavy research and development until she's in first grade," she suggested. "But if you want a consultant to help you with your work, I have a suggestion."

"Don't say Peter," he said quickly. "He's still in school and needs to stay there."

"I agree," she nodded. "He'll find this fascinating when you tell him someday, but I was thinking more about…."

"No," he cut off the name was about to give.

"Bruce," she said as he shook his head. "Yes."

"I just said no," Tony remarked. "You say it to me all the time, and it works."

"That's because I'm me," Pepper replied and gave him a victorious kiss. "Besides, I just said yes."

"Any chance your yes was to my list that you didn't hear?"

"None," she shook her head and took her leave as she walked toward the stairs. "I'm getting changed. Watch the driveway for Bruce's headlights because he's coming for dinner. Oh, by the way, he's big and green always now—his choice. He'll explain it." She paused midway up the stairs and turned to look at him, slouching and frowning still. "An engine that runs on ketchup? What did you feed her for lunch?"

"Pep," he said, "there are some mysteries of the universe it's best to leave alone."

He considered that a win for him in an evening that had so far left him behind the curve. From upstairs, Pepper called out a suggestion that he put ice on his bruised eye to keep their guest from thinking Tony wasn't safe at home. He grumbled and walked into the downstairs bathroom to look more carefully at the injury.

It was definitely a blooming shiner on the left side—hardly his first. He touched the tender spot and could not fathom what caused it. As he recollected the block incident with Morgan, it he noted that it happened to his right side not his left. The white of the eye in the outside corner was a rich, scarlet shade. Out of curiosity, placed his finger at the opening of his ear canal. His pulse quickened when it came back with the same shade only fresher.

**oOoOo**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **For those who've asked: Yes, I respond to questions posted in reviews. Also (with Mr. Stark's permission and encouragement), here is a brief moment of self-promotion: I write novels professionally. For those who like my style, the links to my original works are on my author page. They are not superhero-based; they are historical fiction. Try my trilogy, you'll like it. :) Thanks for your support.

**oOoOo**

**_Stark Lakehouse_**

**_Evening_**

Banner trudged through the darkness toward the warmly lit house by the lake. A light dusting of snow drifted from the dark sky. The air was crisp but not precisely cold, or at least it wasn't to his tough exterior. His hulk husk could handle extreme temperatures. What took some getting used to was wearing shirts, but five years of practice and negotiating with that more primal side of him paid off. He learned to work with his two sides as one, but even that did not feel as awkward as stepping into the Stark home and seeing a dead man staring at him from across the room.

"Bruce," Pepper greeted him warmly, "come in. He's sulking. Ignore it. I intend to."

Tony hung back with arms folded and ankles crossed as he leaned against the island in the kitchen that separated it from the living room.

"I can hear you," Tony grumbled.

"And I can do this," Morgan replied excitedly (and invisibly) from behind the counter.

What she did was not apparent to Pepper or Banner other than it involved feet leaving the floor for a few seconds then touching down again loudly from where the child performed somewhere in Tony's vicinity as she was obscured by the cabinets. Whatever she did, Tony praised her for it then told her not to do it again because it was dangerous. That resulted in Banner getting a swift apology as Pepper hurried toward the kitchen. She lifted the grinning child and looked to Tony for details but got none beyond Morgan beaming proudly as she reached for Tony and crawled from one parent to the next.

"Hey," Banner said feeling awkward yet excited as he looked directly at Tony, who nodded then squinted at him.

"Something's different," he quipped. "No, don't tell me. You cut your hair? Got glasses?"

Pepper cast an '_I told you so_' look at Banner then offered a more careworn gaze to Tony as she moved around the room grabbing items to prep for dinner. Morgan was oblivious to the nonverbal discussion occurring in the room.

"Daddy," she pointed at Banner. "He's the green one."

"Is he?" Tony nodded to their guest. "Huh. Yeah. I guess he is."

"He was here with other people," Morgan whispered. "They were sad. You weren't home."

"Yeah, that was my fault," Tony pet her head.

She cupped her small hand along his chin and stared at him, narrowing her dark gaze on him, as her nose wrinkled in confusion.

"Do you have a cold?" Morgan asked.

"No," he shook his head and put her down. "Why don't you help Mommy? Don't tell her about our project today. It's a surprise. Got it?"

She offered two thumbs up with a wide grin then skipped to Pepper's side as Tony jerked his head to the side for Banner to follow him. They moved through the house to a den area comprised of two walls of shelves with books and one wall filled by windows that in bright and clear weather would show a view of the lake. That evening, it was obscured by fluttering flakes.

"So," Tony began as he flipped several of Morgan's books right side up on the shelves. "Long time no see."

Banner sighed. He'd been warned by both Rhodes and Pepper that Tony was not pleased with his lack of contact despite being one of the few knew the man was alive. Banner thought about pleading the excuse that Fury hadn't wanted him to see Tony and later had him working around the clock looking for answers, but each felt feeble despite the truth of them.

"I wanted to come see you," he admitted. "I didn't know what I'd say."

"Because it's overwhelming to see a dead friend or because I'm not him and you didn't want to start over?" Tony asked.

"Guilt," he replied. "I snapped the gauntlet, too. I got burned. Maybe, if I'd hung on a little longer, I could have snapped Thanos out of existence, too."

"He was already dead in what was the present at that point," Tony recalled from what he'd been told of the final battle. "No one thought an earlier version of him would come forward in time with our returning crew. Besides, Strange said…"

Banner nodded sagely.

"Yeah, one in 14 million, and I wasn't it," he said.

"You brought everyone back," Tony said, his voice losing its edge as he turned compassionate eyes on the green doctor. "That's the ballgame. That's what we did it for, right? You did your part. What's keeping you busy now?"

"You," he admitted.

**oOoOo**

**_Wayne's Diner_**

**_Route 23, 10 miles East of Camp Delta_**

Maria Hill walked to her car outside the roadside diner a few miles from her apartment one town away from Camp Delta. Everyone there thought she was like most other young and hurried professionals in the bedroom community: a commuter who worked in New York City and took the train from Albany every morning. She made small talk with the cashier to help that flourish. The less locals knew anything about her the better.

The bag containing her sloppy but passably edible lasagna was still hot in her hands as she put it on the roof of her car and as she opened the door. The snow was drifting down rather than pelting at the ground the way it had when she initially left the base after another day of helping track escaped prisoners. Rhodes was off to fetch one of those individuals. She wasn't sure entirely why Rhodes was now lead on the project. It had been Sam's originally. She shook her head anytime the thought popped into her head. Politics in her line of work caused nearly as much trouble as actual hostiles. The man was the one anointed to carry Captain America's shield. Whatever problem the powers that be had with him, she wanted no part of it. She was tired of the bullshit even though she'd only returned a month a half earlier after being nowhere for five years. She was disappointed to learn that no one ever seemed to learn the lessons of futility and pointlessness after a tragedy. She had hoped the work she was doing now might help change that.

"That bag's wet now," Fury's voice spoke to her through the darkness. "It's gonna rip when you lift it."

Hill was not someone easily flustered or startled. She was highly trained and hyper alert at all times, yet Fury still could catch her off guard when it suited him.

"Thanks," she replied as her eyes sharpened and picked him up just a few feet off her front bumper on the passenger side. "Getting dinner, sir?"

"Checking up on things," he replied. "Eating alone?"

"As always," she said.

"But you get coffee with old friends from time to time, I'm told," he noted.

"At times," she nodded carefully. "When the coffee or the company is worth it."

"Lately, how's it been?" he wondered.

"The coffee around here sucks always," she smiled.

Fury nodded. He turned up his collar as he walked around the car. He stood beside her, looking hard at her through the light flakes showering them.

"An old friend saw you getting coffee," he remarked. "You know how these things go. You get coffee with one person, someone else feels left out so they start asking questions."

"I understand, sir," she nodded. "The next time, I can just bring some back with me if you think that would help."

"No," he said as he moved away. "By the time you got it back to the base, no matter how quick you were, I think it would be stone cold."

She listened carefully and waited as he walked behind her. He lifted her meal from the roof of the car and held it while she got into the vehicle then handed it to her.

"I've actually been thinking giving up coffee entirely," she said as she placed the bag on the passenger seat beside the gun she stashed there. "It doesn't seem to help much."

"I wouldn't recommend that," he shook his head. "Headaches follow. I've got irritable people around me already."

"Understood," she replied then pulled her door closed and backed out of her parking space.

Fury remained where he was watching her taillights disappear. He felt confident she was on notice and understood that there were many eyes on her.

**oOoOo**

**_Stark Lakehouse_**

Dinner was a quiet affair from Tony's side of things. Pepper was her expert hostess self and carried on polite conversation about the world in general, the weather, and the upcoming holiday. She invited Banner to join them for it. He gave noncommittal responses. In between, Morgan chattered about books, birds, a helicopter she wanted (a smaller version than the one her mother used for commuting to work). Tony nodded and replied when asked a direct question, but he was entirely too quiet in Banner's experience for someone previously easily described as a brilliant chatterbox.

Once the meal was over, Pepper took Morgan with her to pick up and again left Banner and Tony alone. They stepped out onto the porch to take in the night air and (Banner suspected) gain a bit more privacy, but even after they were outside, Tony remained elusive about what was on his mind.

"So," he said blowing on his hands before waving in Banner's general direction, "what's with the whole Jolly Green thing?"

"The whole… oh, right," Banner nodded. "This is new to you. Well, I realized the way to make peace with my two halves was to give the big guy some freedom. Once I gave him some control, he's…"

"Housebroken?" Tony suggested. "A good party guest?"

"Basically," he smiled. "He lets me do my part. I let him be a part of it. We found a happy medium."

"Nothing about you is medium right now, Bruce," Tony scoffed. "Now that you're a fused person, do I still call you Bruce? Or do you go by a cute blended couple's name like Brulk or Huce?"

Banner rubbed a meaty green paw over his face as he chuckled. Great plums of frozen breath wafted from him creating a small fog bank around them that drew a questioning stare from Tony.

"Sorry," Banner apologized. "I never realized how much I could miss hearing stuff like that."

"Witty repartee is in short supply at Camp Concrete Box?" he guessed. "So, they let you out, but I was locked up like a contagion. Interesting. Probably not unwise."

"Rhodes told me you were still sore about how things have gone," Banner nodded. "I know that feeling so I don't blame you. You've got a right to be angry."

"You, the former poster child for rage, is calmly and sagely telling me I've got a right to be angry?" Tony surmised. "Do you find that trippy, or is it just me? Speaking of insulting…"

"What's insulting?" Banner asked, shaking his head like he had somehow zoned out on part of the conversation.

"You not stopping by during my incarceration for one," Tony remarked. "Rhodey's having some existential crisis about the fact that I breathe, and you were MIA. Gotta say, not a fan of being treated like a ditched prom date."

Banner sighed and nodded his understanding. He explained that he'd been living in a lab looking for answers to the riddle that brought Tony back to them.

"I was speaking in riddles?" he remarked. "I speak seven languages fluently and one passably. Riddles isn't on that list."

"What are they?" Banner inquired.

"A riddle is a question usually phrased intentionally to require some ingenuity to ascertain the answer," Tony replied evasively but received a flat stare letting him know the cute answer wasn't sufficient so he dashed off details swiftly and tagged them with what he needed to know. "English, Spanish, German, Italian, Dari, mathematics, and sarcasm go in the fluent category. I'm fine in French, but I find the French ridiculous so I didn't bother master their language. What did you figure out about how I got here?"

The question came out of nowhere and caught Bruce by surprise. He blinked and sifted his thoughts for an answer that wouldn't rile his host more. What he came to was not likely going to fit that bill.

"Nothing," he responded.

"You at least gave it the old college try, right?" Tony snapped. "Glad you've got those seven PhD's. They're so helpful. Thanks for stopping by. Your re-enforced, armored jalopy awaits you."

He flapped his hand toward the darkness where the re-purposed troop transport Banner drove to the Stark house stood in the dark getting blanketed by snow.

"No, Tony, I mean that I found nothing," he clarified. "There's not a shred of evidence to show how you got here. Whatever dumped you here, it had energy waves but they weren't radioactive. I mean there were zero emissions."

"How is that possible?" he asked. "Space itself has radioactive emissions. A tear between realities so close you can barely slip a quark between them would still result in…"

He paused as he looked at Banner's emotionless face. The green head nodded as the conclusion it took him several weeks to reach occurred to Tony.

"It is possible that another dimension or reality could, in theory, share our natural radio signature," Banner began.

"But the very fact that we had a massive gamma emission event just days before would indicate that they shouldn't match," Tony finished the statement with a hint of excitement at the bizarre twist in the puzzle that was his existence.

"That's the conclusion I reached," Banner said. "Stephen Strange said there was only one future in which we won—the one that we all lived through."

"Well," Tony scoffed, "not _all_ of us."

"Right," he grimaced. "Sorry. My point is that what Strange said was that in all others, we were all wiped out. In the winning scenario, you died in the battle after killing Thanos. So it begs the question, if another reality has the same gamma signatures we do, leaving a match so precise that I can't detect a single difference to show there ever was a rift between there and here, how are you here? You should be dead there just like you were here. Tony, 14 million possible outcomes. You were the only one who could give us the victory. You don't have a single burn on you. Trust me, using infinity stones leaves a mark."

He pulled back his sleeve to reveal shiny scars still healing that marked where the energy pulsed through him when he snapped to bring back all those dusted five years earlier.

"So what are you saying?" Tony asked although his expression indicated he knew.

"I don't know why or how you're here," he answered. "I don't have a single science-based theory. Nothing makes sense. You're dead, yet here you are. At first glance, that tells me you're not from here, but there's also no evidence you're from anywhere else. The only thing left as possibility is that…"

"I'm not here at all?" Ton questioned. "Gotta disagree with that, buddy."

"I'm a scientist, Banner sighed. "I believe in verifiable proof. You're here when you can't be. It scares me that the only answer I can come up with is the one I'm specifically trained to refute."

"Which is?"

"It's a miracle," Banner replied sheepishly.

Tony warned that if Banner gave him the higher power/god speech, he would assume that the scientist had developed a crush on Thor and this line of thought was merely to impress the absent Asgardian.

"I didn't realize you two had grown that close on your interstellar road trip," Tony continued. "Where are you two registering for china patterns? Is he showing up anytime soon to say hi? Or are you hiding him somewhere? Is he in your pocket?"

"No, he's not," Banner sighed, realizing he'd tripped Tony's jackass switch with a metaphysical answer.

"So should I infer that you're happy see me?" he wondered. "Because I'm with Pepper, and you and I haven't made up.

Banner scoffed then reached into the pocket of his jacket where a 9-inch square box rested. He pulled the plastic and metal component device out and handed it over.

"Why do you have this?" Tony asked palming the meter he was handed.

"Tony, that's a Stark meter," Banner said. "It measures the Stark effect."

"Yeah, I'm aware," Tony turned the machine over in his hand. "My father actually discovered the Stark effect, thus the reason it's called the Stark effect. He then invented the Stark Meter to measure the Stark effect, which goes to show I was not the first egomaniac in the family but I did a way better job of naming things. Nothing I've ever invented is called the Stark or Tony anything… Except Morgan. She got the last name."

Banner chuckled.

"I'm interested in measuring the Rydberg atoms," he said. "Those are…"

"Atomic energy stimulated in astrophysical environments," Tony yawned. "Yeah. I'm a physicist as well as an engineer, remember? Old news. I've heard this bedtime story before from the guy who wrote it. Why are you carrying one of these around?"

"I think it might help us figure you out," he said.

"Never worked for my father," Tony shook his head and attempted to return the device. "Then again, he never hooked me up to one. Not as far as I remember anyway. He also never questioned where I came from. He accepted that whole biological culpability thing."

Banner explained that he hoped measurements from the meter involving electromagnetism might help him figure out how Tony arrived.

"You mean recently not originally, right?" he chided as he fiddled with the meter, spinning the calibration dials carelessly. "Because I've got a birth certificate from a Manhattan hospital that answers that."

"If you would keep the meter, then maybe…," Banner said.

Tony shook his head and placed it on the porch railing then stepped away from it. He wasn't sure why the thought of being measured by something his father invented to determine to measure energy in astrophysical environments bothered him so greatly.

"I just need it in your basic proximity," Banner persuaded.

"Miniaturize it to a wrist watch, and I'll think about it," Tony shrugged and took another step away as rubbed the chill settling into his arms.

"Miniaturize it?" Banner scrunched his brow. "How?"

"Build it smaller."

"Tony, I'm not an engineer," he pleaded. "I don't building things."

"Well, I wouldn't even carry around a car battery that was keeping me alive," Tony argued, thinking back to his hostage days. "I'm not carrying around unessential, two pound remote control all day for your failing science project."

The door to the house opened and Pepper peered outside. Her face was concerned, showing she'd been either observing body language from the discussion.

"What's keeping you alive?" she asked with concern having caught only part of the discussion.

"The usual," Tony shrugged. "Brilliance, charm, and good looks."

Her mouth was a flat line of disbelief. Her eyes raked over them with displeasure.

"I'm working on a theory," Banner began but got cut off.

"And I'm playing devil's advocate for him on why his data collection is not going to work," Tony offered then flashed her a grin. "We'll be inside in a second… unless you want to stay out here and discuss control groups, stratified samples, and what constitutes a material difference in a standard deviation of independent variables. It's a pretty hot topic. Oh, and Bruce might be about to confess a crush on a guy in love with a hammer."

Her expression melted quickly into one of mirth (with a tinge of suspicion). She didn't fully buy what her husband was saying, but her initial worries upon coming outside were waylaid. She told them not to stay outside too long or Tony would come down with that cold Morgan worried he had. She stepped back inside leaving them alone again.

"You just lied to Pepper," Banner noted. "I've never seen you do that. Something's wrong. What is it?"

"You mean other than you telling me I materialized out of nothing?" he scoffed as he looked distantly into the darkness. "I was still clinging to the idea that I was somehow from here, that this was my place. Now I find out not only am I not the right Tony Stark, but I'm also not an adjacent-reality Tony Stark. It's not easy settling my mind on the idea that I don't belong anywhere. It's a little disconcerting actually. Plus, this means Pepper is finally wrong about something. That's never happened once in more than 20 years so, yeah, it's just scary."

He sighed dragged in a painful lung of cold air to swallow the lump in his throat and quell the burning knot in his chest. He blinked back the stinging sensation in his eyes.

"Tony, where you're from doesn't determine who you are or where you belong," Banner offered. "This is where you need to be. When we lost you… It was almost too much after… everything."

"I know about Romanoff," he looked to Banner with sympathy. "I'm sorry. I liked her. How are you doing with all that?"

Banner nodded and muttered generic words about coping and muddling through. His work, he proclaimed, was what kept him going—just like it did to Natasha when she lost everything. Immersing himself in the work both distracted him and helped him deal with her loss.

"Natasha did what she had to do—like she always did… just like you," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm here and she's not," Tony observed. "That doesn't piss you off? It pisses me off. I'm glad I'm here with Pepper and Morgan, but until recently, I didn't even know Morgan existed. I was just happy to learn Pepper was alive. You… You know what you lost."

_That's the problem_, Banner realized.

Tony was only a little angry about his lack of company from Banner in recent weeks. From what he saw, even in Tony's reserved mood, he was too enthralled with being left alone to spend his time with Pepper and Morgan to miss other companionship much. What was bothering him was an obtuse form of survivor's guilt.

"I don't resent you, Tony," Banner assured him. "I mean it when I say that I'm happy you're back. You sacrificed everything. You came through when no one else could. We all played our role, but you gave up your life to save the universe from Thanos. There's no way I could be mad at you or resent you because you're back and getting a second chance to be with your family. Nat would want this, too. Man, I see Pepper and that little girl now and… They were miserable at the funeral, but now they're smiling. They're laughing. They're happy. They're whole again because of you. Seeing them like this makes me happy. Seeing you here with them helps me. Having you here to talk to, that helps, too."

Tony scoffed and dug his hands into his pockets as he cast his eyes at the Stark meter catching flakes on its black case where it rested on the railing.

"So if you're in a love-fest about me, can I tell you something in confidence?" he asked and Banner nodded. "This black eye I've got didn't happen from Morgan skipping a block off a box like Pepper said. It appeared without any injury at all. Also, earlier today, I was reading with Morgan when I got a massive dizzy spell. I couldn't see the words on the page for about a minute."

"Okay," Banner said cautiously. "Pepper doesn't know any this?"

"Didn't think anything of it until I saw this," Tony remarked as he gestured to the bruise on his face. "The vision thing wasn't like a head rush. It was powerful, like being thrown in a centrifuge. It stopped suddenly so I put it out of my mind. When I was talking with Pepper later I got this loud, persistent ringing in my ear, and it felt like I had fire in my veins for a few seconds."

Banner stepped forward to look at his friend carefully and saw something that was not typical (yet not impossible) within Tony Stark: fear.

"How long did the dizziness and ringing last?" he asked.

"Dizziness maybe five minutes," he said. "The ringing went on at varying levels for about 20 minutes. Oh, and I found blood in my ear canal afterward. That's probably nothing, right?"

Banner sighed and pulled off his glasses then pinched the bridge of his nose. Dr. Tanis's notes were woefully inadequate on his treatment of Tony—something Banner wanted to discuss with the patient but opted not to as he could see the burden Tony carried was nearly too great for him already. It also occurred to the scientist that Tony may also not have provided Tanis with all the information he needed either.

"Leave your meter here," Tony said suddenly. "I'll calibrate it to be more sensitive to frequencies so I don't need to be right next to it to get your readings."

"Uh, I think those measurements are not even in my top 10 things I need to look at right now," Banner ruled. "You need to be examined."

"I'm anemic," Tony shrugged. "All this is probably related to that. Think maybe you could tell Pepper red meat won't kill me?"

"You mentioned these symptoms to me for a reason," Banner asserted. "It's not because you know you're anemic. You're telling me because you're worried it's something more, and you want someone to know. Why is that someone not Pepper?"

He shrugged and offered the excuse that she had been through a lot with him (both recently and for the two decades that preceded that year). She was just getting back into the swing of work. The last thing she needed was a new crisis to take her off her game. Stark Industries was a strong corporation, but it was a monster to run and maintain. It had been difficult for him just owning it and leaving her to do the work to keep it going. Being at the helm was a Herculean feat in itself. She didn't need more drama from him, her secret house guest.

"You can't hide this from her," Banner warned.

"Hide what?" Tony asked with an innocent shrug. "She knows about the anemia. That's the diagnosis. You wanted information to look into your theory. Well, I've given you new information."

"Yeah," Banner scoffed as the urge to put hands around the man's shoulders and shake some sense into him grew stronger. What he didn't know was whether that was Hulk's solution or his own. "It's new information that's just anecdotal. Tony, I can't use it in any meaningful way. I need quantifiable data."

Tony stuck out his arm as he met his friend's gaze.

"You're a doctor," he said. "Take a sample. Do some tests. Tanis only looked for a normal medical issue. You know to look for more than that."

"And not tell Pepper?" Banner ventured.

"Patient confidentiality, Dr. Banner," Tony insisted.

**oOoOo**

Banner found it hard but managed to stay focused on playing the good guest for another hour. Morgan was helpful in that by telling him about the many snowmen she intended to build the next day. Like her father creating a fleet of armor, there were definite plans and specifications for each. Banner told her he would come back and view them when they were all done and that he hoped for her sake there was plenty of snow to accomplish it. She then pivoted back to voicing her worry that the snow had given her father a cold.

Tony cut off further health observations by noting it was Morgan's bed time. He scooped her up and hauled her up the stairs while issuing orders that she had to tell him a story that night rather than being a freeloader and expecting him to do all the work. Pepper sighed as the two of them departed. Banner took that as his opportunity to leave as well without ending up in an awkward discussion with a woman who gracious invited him into her home and from whom he was now keeping a rather serious secret.

"Did you talk to him about reaching out to the others?" she asked as she walked him to the door. "I got the excuse that he figures everyone is moving on and doesn't need a reminder of what happened."

"He honestly thinks they won't want to know?" Banner wondered and received a shrug.

"To him, it's five years ago," Pepper explained. "He knows what happened since then, but he still feels like he just lost Peter on Titan then nearly died on in space. The only person he's expressed any interest in speaking to is Nebula."

"Not Peter or Steve?"

She groaned and shook her head in displeasure but her sigh contained a tidal wave of understanding despite her disagreement with the logic fueling Tony's decisions on this subject.

"Especially not Peter or Steve," she replied and caught Banner's gaping expression. "He feels almost crippling guilt for Peter being on Titan and not saving him."

"But Tony did save him in the end," Banner pointed out. "He's smart enough to…"

"It's not about his head," she counseled. "It's about his heart. Tony's mind contains his skills. His heart has always been his biggest secret and his real superpower."

She knew he was still stuck on the not-saving Peter that happened first. He never called Peter to help deal with the aliens who landed in New York five years earlier, but he couldn't let go of the memory that Peter was supposed to be on a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art yet ended up dying in space while trying to help him instead.

"Peter disappeared with everyone else," Bruce said. "That wasn't Tony's fault."

"He didn't stop Thanos on Titan," Pepper explained the logic then dabbed at her eyes thinking of the pain she saw in Tony's eyes following that experience—a pain he still carried. "Bruce, you saw people you didn't know turn to dust, and that was hard for you. Peter wasn't a stranger to Tony; he cared about him deeply. Then, for all intents and purposes, he died in Tony's arms a million miles from home begging Tony to help him to stay."

She sniffed as she blotted her eyes and cleared her throat from the lump that welled there as she distantly heard her husband upstairs negotiating with their daughter about whether snowfall constituted a good reason to get more than one bedtime story. Pepper only knew what Tony went through on Titan because he'd chosen to tell her the one time he spoke about it after leaving the Avengers' compound when he was deemed well enough following his return from space. For her, it was a hard memory to shoulder hearing that he'd worn Peter's ashes on him for three weeks as he and Nebula drifted aimlessly in space waiting to die themselves. For Tony, it was more painful than the injury that left the scar in his side from being impaled by Thanos.

"Tony knows Peter's back now and in school again," she said in a voice husky with emotion. "He wants Peter to graduate, go to college, and stay as far away from him as possible to keep him safe."

"Safe?" Banner questioned. "The kid has the proportionate strength and agility of a spider. He's an enhanced human. He can take more than Tony can."

She scoffed kindly and shook her head.

"Have you met my husband's ego?" she remarked then nodded knowingly. "Tony can do many things. One of his lesser known skills is his ability to think everything he couldn't fix or prevent is ultimately his fault. By his reasoning, he thinks he dragged Peter into some inevitable death spiral by bringing him into the Avengers in the first place. Maintaining distance by remaining a secret is his way of protecting Peter now."

Banner was no psychiatrist—he'd listen to Tony ramble about his life before and found it too heavy and too confusing to process of offer advice.

"Bruce," Pepper continued, "he needs more than just Morgan and me. You speak his language. I know what he's going through isn't entirely scientific. I'm not asking you to be his therapist, but…"

Banner nodded and gave her arm a gentle squeeze of comfort. His head was already a whirl of worries over the science he needed to dissect and understand. Now, his heart ached for a friend suffering under a weight that was not his to carry, but it also afforded him the opportunity to keep closer tabs on Tony's health while allowing both men to keep that fact secret.

"I'll see if I can get him to come to the base—just as a visitor—to help me on some of the stuff I'm working on," he said. "It's all just theory and lab work. I've got a few project going and I'm short-handed for all of them. I was talking to Rhodes recently and said what I needed was help from Tony to figure some of it out. When he's there, I'll try to talk to him some more."

Pepper embraced him and uttered her thanks, making him feel like a heel for being deceptive, but in the end if he could solve the mystery of what was happening to Tony, everyone would be better off.

**oOoOo**


	13. Chapter 13

**oOoOo**

**Queens, New York**

Peter sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor. As Saturday mornings went, it was a bust. He had gone out to patrol the night before and didn't do anything. He'd found he had no energy to scale buildings, although he forced himself to do it. He wasn't really listening for sounds of distress. The one noise that did catch his attention turned out to be a cat in heat that was stuck in a trashcan. He did set it free, but it took a swipe at him before departing.

He returned to his apartment with Aunt May and spent the balance of the dark hours doing what he was doing in that instant: nothing. He sighed as his bedroom door opened.

"Hey there," Aunt May said with forced brightness in her voice. "You interested in breakfast?"

"Not right now," Peter replied as he gripped his hands tightly together. "Are you working this afternoon?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "They've got the funds for some overtime work so I'll put in a few more hours. Maybe it won't look like the Cratchet house here on Christmas after all."

Peter offered her a wan smile and nodded. Christmas was never a big holiday for them. Money was always tight, but that was even truer since they returned to try and recapture their lives after a five-year absence. May sighed and walked toward him.

"Happy's supposed to come by for dinner," she said.

"Yeah?" he nodded. "That's… that's good. Really."

Learning his aunt was in a relationship didn't bother Peter once he got over the shock of it. Happy was a good guy, a great guy. It was just that seeing him reminded Peter of why he knew Happy. He tried his best not to think of Mr. Stark throughout the day, but found it impossible. For example, the previous night before heading out to patrol, he came across the one photo he had of himself and Mr. Stark. It was a photo they faked of Peter receiving a certificate for his alleged September Grant win as part of his Stark Industries internship. Happy had actually taken the photo. Previously, Peter cherished the image.

Now, looking at it crushed his heart and made him feel cold because it dredged up the still fresh memory of Mr. Stark turning his unfocused eyes on Peter on the battlefield as he breathed his last breaths. The memory always flooded Peter's eyes and made his chest ache. He shook his head to try clearing it.

"I know all of this is still hard," May sighed as she put her hand on his shoulder. "It will get better. You've just got to give it some time and not stay locked in this room so much. Seeing Happy tonight will be good. He needs to see us, too. Apparently, Mrs. Stark has a new nanny for her daughter so Happy feels a little lost without that little girl to watch over."

Peter nodded. Mr. Stark's widow was already back at work. There were news stories about it. There were also some scandalous headlines on some tabloids he saw at the newsstands. The outrageous stories proclaimed she was already amorously involved with someone new—a few even claimed that someone was an Avenger. Peter's jaw hardened at that thought. Whether it was true or not, it angered him. Mr. Stark had died less than two months earlier, and the world was moving on like nothing had happened.

Peter clenched his teeth and tried to think of something else. What his mind fixated on was the odd observation he made when he thought he saw a man fall off a building not long ago. Try as he might, he could not convince himself that he'd imaged it entirely. For that reason, he was straying to that neighborhood on his way home from school once in a while. What he hoped to see, he did not know, but he was fairly certain something wasn't right there.

Whether he was in the mood to do something about it if he ever learned the issue, he did not know.

**oOoOo**

**Camp Delta**

**Banner's lab**

Light spilled into the hallway as midnight crept closer. Banner slumped in his chair as he rubbed the knots in his neck. Doing fine detail work, like taking blood samples, was difficult in his new form. That sort of act required greater dexterity than his strong green hands could usually manage, but Tony had graciously offered his hands to draw his own blood. Most people (other than diabetics and needle junkies) usually did not like jabbing themselves, but Tony had spent 10 years reaching into his own chest to removed reactor cores to stay alive. A simple needle poke to draw blood didn't bother him.

Banner was reviewing the results from the blood sample Tony gave him. He knew he should get some sleep as well, but he knew rest would not come. Banner was perplexed by the readout in a way he'd never experienced. Not a single test he ran offered him results that made any sense.

Tony was not anemic. His cells were simply degrading. How a licensed doctor, one trusted enough to work with the Avengers and on Fury's radar as part of his initiatives, could make that kind of mistake was just one of a dozen questions keeping Banner from sleep. Foremost in his mind was determining the disease or factors having such a detrimental effect on his friend's (now his patient) life. All he knew for certain was that this problem would eventually kill Tony if a cure was not identified.

The lack of any diagnosis made Banner feel like a first year medical student, which found him crumbling at his lab table when Sam entered with Rhodes.

"Okay, now I owe him money and that's your fault," Sam said without a greeting. "He bet me you'd still be at work. I thought you had a better handle on having a life, Bruce. Man, I didn't think this would be possible, but you're looking pasty."

"He's right, you're awfully pale on the green front," Rhodes added with a grin but also a hint of concern in his eyes. "Pepper invited both of us to Christmas at their house. I think Tony was only joking when he said that Morgan wants to decorate you. So stop changing your complexion."

"Huh?" Banner blinked then shook his head. "Sorry. What? I wasn't listening. Hey, any luck finding Dr. Tanis?"

He addressed his question to Rhodes who had taken on that responsibility days earlier when Banner told him about his difficulties contacting the doctor. In response, he received a head shake.

"That's actually why Sam's here," Rhodes answered. "He needs to know what Dr. Tanis did or didn't do when he was treating Tony."

"That's simple," Banner rumbled. "He did nothing. He didn't do his job. I mean, yeah, he gave him fluids and a transfusion. At this point, I'm impressed that he got Tony's blood type right. It's like the guy forgot to be a doctor. There aren't any test results in his records. There are only basic vital readings the techs took. I was going to see if I could talk to them next."

"You can't," Rhodes shook his head and looked to Sam, who sported a stony expression.

"Both techs were found dead this afternoon," he reported. "It's a car accident, for now. They were together. Local police think they hit a patch of ice, slid off the road, and the car ended up in a river. They've ruled it accidental drowning as a result of the car crash."

Banner nodded slowly. Conspiracies were easy to jump to and considering all the questions piling up around him, it was an obvious choice. But obvious choices weren't always good or productive ones. He waited for his visitors to tell him what brought them to his work space.

"Our doc falls off the radar and a few days later the two guys who worked closely with him end up dead," Sam shook his head. "That smells bad no matter how you sniff it. Now, you're tell me the missing doctor wasn't being a doctor at all. What's going on here? Best guess. Either of you."

Rhodes shrugged. The entire situation surrounding Tony was a mess—more of one than usually swirled in his general vicinity. Banner sighed and ran his hand roughly through his hair.

"I don't know about anyone's motivation or plans," he said. "All I can tell you is what I see in these records and what I'm learning from the tests I've run myself. Dr. Tanis didn't seem to be interested in treating Tony beyond getting him on his feet and functional. If I had been the attending physician and knew what I know now, I'd have admitted Tony to a real hospital. Guys, this is deep nuclear medicine stuff. I've never seen anything like it."

"Contagious?" Sam asked asserting his security role.

"No, but it could be deadly to Tony," Banner replied. "His body is breaking down at the cellular level. All his systems are functioning the way they should, but the cells are rebelling, I guess is the best way to describe it."

"Rebelling?" Rhodes repeated. "How?"

"Going kamikaze," Banner said. "They're literally ripping themselves apart. Granted, it's happening on the atomic level so it's hard to notice. When it reaches critical mass within a group of close cells, it results in things like sudden hemorrhaging, fluid in the lungs, and unexplained bruises. If I can't stop it, it'll result in organ failure eventually. I talked Tony into having FRIDAY do a whole body scan and send it to me. I'm waiting for those results to process still."

Sam nodded. He knew as little about nuclear medicine as he did about time travel, but he'd heard enough to know that his growing suspicions were not unfounded.

"You report what you find to me," he said.

"I can't," Banner shook his head. "This is Tony's personal medical status. I've said too much already."

"And I'm the one under orders to protect him," Sam said. "My team can't do that if we don't have all the facts. I don't need to know his blood pressure or his temperature. I need to know if there's something that's a threat to him. If my guys have to step in on a moment's notice, what do they need to know to protect him?"

Banner shrugged. He simply didn't have that answer and wouldn't know where to look for it until FRIDAY offered him more information.

**oOoOo**

Pepper received a message from Tony mid-flight on her way home that she would not have her normal greeting party upon landing. It was not precisely an unexpected message. Most days, she was met by Tony and Morgan when the helicopter landed in the clearing a quarter mile from the house, but since the arrival of the snow, there was less interest on her daughter's part to trek down to the landing site. On those days (like this one), Tony instead sent the car, complete with self-driving capabilities, to fetch Pepper. In warmer and drier weather, she wouldn't mind walking but 22 degrees with a four inch accumulation of snow was not fun to navigate in a pencil skirt and heels. She got out of the car as it rolled to a stop in its parking bay in the garage. As she had approached the house, she noted only a few lights glowing inside, but from the recesses of the garage—specifically Tony's work area—she heard voices so she followed the sound and peeked into the workshop area.

She spied Tony on one side of the room sitting on an elevated chair with his feet kicked onto the table and his fingers laced behind his head. The heads up display and the computer monitor near him were both lighted up with various colored diagrams. On the opposite side of the space, Morgan sat in an identical chair hunched over something on a workbench.

"Is this a secret club, or can anyone come in?" Pepper asked, drawing Tony's attention. He instantly darkened his screens and called across the room.

"Hey, Morgan," he said. "The boss is here."

The child turned around to reveal she wore safety glasses, a breathing mask, and protective gloves that went from fingertip to elbow. She also wore a smock of some sort over her clothing. Her shouted greeting was muffled under all of her gear.

"Mommy!" she called in hushed decibels while scrambling from her seat and rushing toward her mother. "Look what we made."

"Don't touch her," Tony advised then pointed at the spatters of white along the child's coveralls and gloves. "Paint."

"What are you painting?" Pepper wondered and let Morgan guide her back to the bench. "Wow. That's your name."

Sloppy letters spelled out her moniker along a bright, shiny fuselage of a model helicopter that was roughly two feet long and nearly a foot fall from struts to top rotor.

"It's my 'copter!" Morgan shouted through the breathing mask. "It's red!"

"So is the front of you," Pepper observed. "Take all of that off and wash your hands so we can head to the house."

"But my 'copter's not dry," Morgan insisted.

"Honey, we'll leave it out here to dry overnight," Tony advised. "It'll be ready in the morning. For now, toss your gear in the back corner."

She gave him an awkward thumbs up with her gloves then skipped to the back of the room to replace her safety equipment. It hadn't been necessary to wear most of it precisely, but Morgan had insisted in donning all of it. Considering the mess she made while simply adding her name to the side of her new toy, Tony felt he made a wise decision in obliging her the chance to play dress up.

Pepper approached him wearing an odd smile that prompted him to put down his feet and sit up.

"Maybe I'm reading too much into this," he grinned, "but something tells me you wanted an alone moment for something other than a lecture about making her a toy two days before Christmas."

He was rewarded with a sensual kiss that made him forget everything that was on his computer when she arrived. The moment was pleasant and ended too soon in his opinion.

"She didn't nap today," he revealed slyly. "Bet you can put her to bed in like 10 minutes without any fuss."

"She's getting dinner and a bath," Pepper thwarted his eager plans.

"Then what's with the _do-me-now_ kiss?" he whispered. "I know I didn't get that wrong."

"Maybe I was just happy to see you," she replied as her archaic grin returned.

"You're never a tease," he remarked. "What's going on?"

He was torn over what was making him smile more at that moment. Pepper's enticing smirk was intriguing and necessitated research. However, Morgan had also begun singing at the sink. It was part of her hand-washing ritual (which he found insanely adorable) so that she keep the soap on long enough to actually kill germs and remove dirt. _She's chemically massacring microorganisms while singing the Happy Birthday song to them_, he thought as his grin widened. As he shook his head, he looked at the watch resting on the table top (he didn't seem to be able to wear one without it dying anymore) and saw it was nearly 6 p.m.

"You're late," he observed.

"That's actually quite true," Pepper nodded. "I told you I had an appointment. Are you finished in here for the night?"

"She is," Tony said. "I've gotta get the last of the circuits soldered in the motherboard for the remote. It'll take me maybe 10 minutes. You can head to the house with her. I'll be right behind you. She might ask you to detour to the west side of the porch. She made a snowman commune in the yard. I can't tell if they're waiting for a concert or assembling to attack."

Pepper chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair as she declined the roundabout way to get into the house. Heels were not meant for trudging through a snowy yard. She looked at the bench where Morgan's helicopter rested.

"Does that thing fly?" she asked.

"I built it; of course, it flies," he said. "Or, it will as soon as I finish the last circuit, but don't worry. We won't fly it inside the house."

"Repeat that to yourself a few more times so it sinks in, Mr. Stark," she instructed.

He grinned and nodded.

"_Mr. Stark?_" he remarked. "I'm excessively intrigued. I demand answers… and maybe a striptease." Pepper shot him a semi-scolding glare as she blushed. "That would make me very happy, Miss Potts."

Morgan then charged into the discussion, free of protective clothing but with the marks from it still pressed into her nose and forehead as she gripped her mother's hand.

"I wanna see Happy!"

"That's not what I was talking about, kido," Tony sighed as he kept his gaze pointedly on his wife.

"Well, I am talking about Happy because," Pepper said turning her attention to her daughter, "guess who's coming tomorrow night and staying for Christmas?"

"Happy!" Morgan cheered. "He can bring me a cheeseburger."

"Then I wish he'd show up tonight," Tony mumbled.

"He's coming here Christmas Eve and staying for a few days," Pepper said and looked firmly at Tony while she continued to speak to Morgan. "He hasn't seen Daddy in a while so it's time for a visit."

"Will Santa know where to bring his presents?" Morgan asked urgently.

Her concern was instant and deep. Her lip jutted out, and she swiveled her gaze from one parent to the other.

"Optimistic of you to think he's on the Nice List," Tony remarked.

"Happy's nice," Morgan looked at him with confusion that melted his smirk and elicited a sigh from him.

"Yes, he is," Tony agreed and ruffled her hair. "It'll be fine. I built Santa a tracking device years ago."

"You did?" Morgan's eyes were as wide as saucers and her smile shone more brightly than the while splashes on the flashy red of her helicopter.

"Really?" Pepper rolled her eyes. "That's a bit much even from you."

Tony shook his head and delighted in reminding her of a consulting job he took roughly 17 years earlier for a company called Saavard Avionics, Navigational Telemetry & Aeronautics, which abbreviated in contracts was listed as SANTA.

"They commissioned someone in this room," he announced and pointed at himself, "to design both their satellite delivery system and write the code for their global positioning software."

"Did you get a present?" Morgan asked.

"I got about $18 million," he replied. "I'm sure I bought myself a present with it. Mommy must have signed a purchase order for something. Actually, she probably bought some artwork I never looked at. I think we bought their whole company like a month later, too."

"I'd have to look in the records," Pepper said but got a head shake from Tony not to bother before she took Morgan's hand in hers. "Daddy's going to finish up in here then join us in a few minutes. Tony, don't get distracted and forget to come in."

He nodded his agreement and waited for her to close the door to the shop. He then turned back to his computer and the report Banner sent him less than an hour earlier.

It was not good news. The structural integrity of the sampled blood cells revealed they were compromised at the nuclear level. At Banner's request, Tony had done something he hadn't since returning: He climbed into a suit of armor. His old Mark LXX was tucked away in the shop. The purpose in donning it was to use the internal sensors for FRIDAY to conduct a full body scan and transmit it to Banner. Inside the armor, it felt both familiar and terrifying. Tony had never been claustrophobic before, but he could not wait to get out of the enclosure.

He hoped the results of that scan would give Banner more answers than questions. As it was, he was asking to see Tony again as soon as possible. It was hard to say if the man was eager or frantic from his messages. Tony replied he would be in touch after the holiday. He felt no worse than he had in the previous week. The dizzy spills did still happen and there were odd, unexplained bruises on him, but his eye was no longer cherry red in the corner and there was no additional blood in his ear. His chest felt a little fluttery once in a while, but as long as he chanted the word anemia to himself those worries were easy to squelch.

**oOoOo**

Bucky knocked on the nondescript door for the apartment rented by "Roger Stevens", retired high school teacher. He rolled his eyes at his friend's simple pseudonym. According to Cap, it was his wife Peggy's idea because it was so bland and forgettable. It also had the added benefit of being nearly his name so he didn't have to learn a whole new identity. The elderly visage of Captain America answered the door after a few seconds.

"Bucky," Cap greeted him and opened the door further.

"Taking your time getting here, old man," Bucky shook his head as he entered.

"If a man my age does anything fast, people ask questions," he replied. "What brings you out this evening?"

"The rest of the world is just thinking about dinner, Steve, not bedtime," he scoffed.

"So you're not hungry?" Cap remarked. "Too bad. I made Peggy's beef casserole. I was going to share."

The smell in the apartment made Bucky's stomach growl. He relented a grin and decided not to be rude.

"I don't want to insult you," he shrugged. "I'll have a little."

Cap invited him to sit at the small table in the kitchen and doled out a helping. It brought both of them back to a time a century earlier when they hunched over plates in Bucky's family kitchen when his mother shoveling food at them even though times were hard.

"We've come a long way from boiled meat and potatoes in Ma's kitchen on Sunday nights," Bucky noted.

"I was in our old neighborhood earlier last week," Cap said. "I took the train to the city to see my granddaughter. Shelley Anne just got a job with an architecture firm. She took me to the building where they're starting a new project. It's on Conklin Avenue. Remember that building where Susie Milton used to hang out the window and try to convince you to, uh… come upstairs to help her _get the window to shut_?"

Nearly a century had passed and still Bucky could see his friend blush at the overture. Rather than pick on him, Bucky nodded. All of those memories had come back after his time in Wakanda. He was glad for so many of them, but not all. The recollections of the things he did and saw while under the control of Hydra pained him. The strictly political assassinations were easier to set aside. Some of those guys were simply bad news and deserved what they got. It was the others, the more innocent people, who died simply because their money and their brains were a threat or because killing them would send a message to someone else. Those were demons Bucky knew he would never silence.

"Well, they're turning that old building into high end condos," Cap reported. "Shelley Anne studied architecture in college and finally landed a new job in that field again. She's working for the lead architect on the project. He's letting her draft the layout of the units on the lower level."

"Proud grandpa," Bucky chuckled. "Who knew all these years you weren't being America's poster boy for positive attitude but were just practicing for Grandfather of the Year?"

"Family," Cap chuckled and nodded. "In the end, that's what it's all about."

He sighed and looked at his ring finger, still adorned with his wedding band. Peggy had slipped away before their grandchildren finished their higher education, but she got to see them grow and was proud of them.

"Yeah, I guess," Bucky remarked and drew Cap's stare. "I was actually thinking the other day about Howard. I mean I was thinking what he'd be like as a grandfather. Can you imagine that? Howard and a granddaughter? That would have been funny to see."

Cap nodded in a stilted fashion. Howard never came up as a subject between the two of them. He was mentioned only once leading up to the ambush in Russia by Helmut Zemo that revealed Bucky's secret to Tony. Bucky knew what he had done, knew he was under Hydra's control when he did it, but the guilt of knowing (and recalling) that he murdered a man who had been a friend was a heavy weight on him.

"I suppose," Cap said. "But Howard changed after we knew him. Who knows what he would have thought?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "When we knew him, I never thought of him as a guy who'd ever have a kid. A string of girlfriends, sure, but settling down with a family? I never would have guessed it."

"Things change," Cap said.

"I've read a lot about Tony lately," Bucky continued. "All the tributes and stuff. He was a wild one for a while, too. Like father like son, I guess. A lot of the stuff he invented was pretty slick. I think he might have been even better than his old man."

Cap shrugged unable to answer one way or another. Howard was an inventor during a time of overt war when the weapons of destruction and espionage were commonplace. Tony navigated during a different time, melding science and innovation eventually for more than just weapons. Cap was honored to have known both Starks, but he could not compare them in his mind. They were greatly alike but also so stridently different that it would be a dishonor to both of them to sit them on opposing sides of any measure. The only thing in that moment that would bother him more than pitting father against son for a contest was the fact they were a part of this conversation at all.

"Buck," Cap questioned, "is something going on?"

Bucky considered his words. He knew he could tell his old friend anything. He was as trustworthy as they came. He'd broken with half of his team to save Bucky. He'd gone on the run as a fugitive for him. Telling his old pal Steve what he was up to now was nowhere near as bad as any of that. In fact, Bucky was certain he was doing the right thing. He just didn't think it was anyone's burden to carry but his own.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Just thinking about the holidays and all the trouble they are for folks. This year is going to be hard for a lot of people, like Tony's family. But there's other folks who've got even more messed lives. I was reading about a bunch of folks who lost people when we all vanished so they eventually moved on and got married to someone new, even had kids with someone new, but now their old spouses are back. That's gotta be awkward. I even saw on TV where they guy married his wife's sister and had a kid with her. Now the first wife is back. They got into a fist fight—the two sisters I mean—right on TV."

Cap shook his head and fought a guilty grin. He didn't watch TV other than the news or the history channel. Bucky's discussion of recent programmed was a leading reason why he didn't reconsider that decision.

"Do you have plans for the holiday?" he asked.

"I'm working," Bucky nodded. "A little security work; keeping an eye on an abandoned building. It's not exciting or anything, but it's something to do. Easy work really."

"You sure?" Cap asked. "My son is in Washington D.C. for a month. I'm taking the train down with Shelley Anne tomorrow morning to see the rest of her family. You could join us."

Bucky politely declined, having expected the invitation. He didn't know how Cap would explain his childhood friend, now a one-armed mercenary who was still in his 30s, as being the same guy who grew up in Brooklyn in the first part of the century then served with the 107th infantry and later was one of the Howling Commandos. It was especially impossible when one considered that Cap's children and grandchildren didn't know who their father/grandfather actually was. Bucky decided it was best not to test how far his friend would go to protect his identity when talking with family.

"Maybe some other time," Bucky replied. "Besides, I was going to catch up with Sam Wilson in the next few days. He gave me a call. We've got a few things to talk about, I think."

**oOoOo**

Tony felt a head rush coming on as Pepper put Morgan to bed. He made his way to the couch and tried to calm the frantic hammering of his heart. He thought it odd that he hoped it was a panic attack; those he at least knew subsided eventually. Odder still, the experience gave him a solution to the worry that had begun brewing in his mind since reading Banner's message earlier that day. He had begun fearing he would have an attack and perhaps collapse when only Morgan was around. He planned to talk to Pepper about it after the holidays. He didn't want a babysitter, but it wouldn't be the worst idea to have someone on hand to make sure Morgan wasn't in a position of needing to summon help on her own if the worst happened.

He smirked at the solution as the swimming in his head abated. The answer was so simple, and it solved two problems: one academic and one security related. Reaching out to arrange his fix/insurance policy against emotionally traumatizing Morgan would be awkward, but Happy was going to be visiting soon. He could take care of the delicate part of Tony's plan. Tony had just settled on that when Pepper came down the stairs.

"She didn't seem like she skipped a nap today," she yawned.

"Sounds like she did 400 laps in the tub," he noted as she settled not beside him but in his lap, draping her arms around him that earned her a please grin from him.

"And splashed about four gallons of water on the floor," Pepper nodded as her intense gaze from earlier returned.

"So is it time for me to get a lecture, or can I get a bath and tucked in, too?" Tony asked as he nibbled on her neck that resulted in both a smile and an eye roll. "Okay, I just got the eye roll of derision but also a _come hither_ grin. I call foul, Pep. Those are mixed signals."

"I have never had a come hither grin," she disagreed.

"That's right, except the part where you do," he insisted. "I've seen it many times. All those years you lusted after me…"

"Never actually lusted…"

"Could barely keep yourself under control…," he continued.

"Your delusions are getting worse every year," Pepper laughed quietly.

"Undressing me with your eyes," he said as he began to undo the buttons on her shirt.

"That's not how I remember it," she said, gripping his hand before he could make any real progress. "So, I go some news today."

Tony sneered. He'd heard on the radio about some financial trouble in Asia and how that was making tech firms nervous so a hasty summit was being called for the first week of January. With something as vital as Asian markets in tech stocks, there was no way Stark Industries wouldn't be at that table. That, he knew, meant Pepper was likely the head the delegation the company would send, which would result in her being absent for roughly a week. He could handle it; he just didn't like her going away for that long.

"When do you leave?"

"Leave?" she repeated. "Where am I going?"

"Beijing," he guessed. "Or did Japan put its foot down and demand Tokyo? I hope they did. I'd feel better about you being there."

She laughed and shook her head before explaining she and the vice presidents of the various departments were still discussing who would go to the conference. Her news, she said growing serious, was more about the home front.

"Well, whatever it is, I didn't do," Tony said.

"Actually, you did," she smiled and watched his eyes narrow in bewilderment. "Well, we did. I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and I found out that I'm pregnant."

His eyebrows arched high as his chin dropped. Pepper laughed at his reaction while he blinked and tried to find words.

"Is your silence stunned elation, or are you panicking?" she asked, knowing the answer but enjoying one of the few times she ever saw him at a loss for words when it didn't involve anxiety, grief, or frustration.

"You're…," he began. "You're having a…"

"Another baby," she nodded. "Happy?"

He shook his head then tilted it.

"Wait," Tony said. "It's Happy's? What do you do when you leave here each day?"

A grin split his face as he leaned in to kiss her only to get pushed back and receive a scrunched expression from her of mock anger.

"You did not just say that," Pepper scolded.

"You're the boss; it never happened," he agreed and finally met her lips.

Several moments of expressing his delight and surprise ended with her cuddled in his arms where they lay on the couch with his hand resting on her still flat abdomen.

"So," he said rubbing his hand along her warm, smooth skin, "this is our Mark II."

She giggled as she shook her head and forbid him to label either of their children like an engineering project.

"Do not call him or her that," she insisted.

"Fine," he relented. "We'll take the name Mark is off the list. So? Details? When?"

"Details," Pepper repeated. "Well, I'm pregnant. That's the main one. Right now the best guess for the due date is July 31. The rest we need to wait to learn. I know this is unexpected."

"I like the unexpected once in a while," Tony said. "Well, this is definitely the best Christmas gift ever. Question: Is it one I gave you or you're giving me?"

"We'll call it a shared exchange," she said. "It does pose a few issues."

"Such as?"

She looked at him with profound disbelief. In his best and lightest moods, Tony possessed the ability to block out everything except that which was bringing him some form of joy. It was the reason she often had to interrupt his time with Morgan because he would forget or ignore everything so as not to have single moment of his time with her cut short. He used to do the same thing when working in his basement in California. When he was fully invested in a project and in that mode, he could go days without sleep and not notice until he collapsed.

"The world," she explained (she felt unnecessarily), "which includes an at-times testy and reactionary Board of Directors, thinks I'm a widow—a recent widow. Now this. My private life is my own, but there will be questions and rumors. The tabloids are going to have a field day."

Tony shrugged and advised her to ignore them like he always did in the past. Pepper understood that approach but reminded him that there was truth to this story. There were already occasional rumors about her moving on to someone new. There had been a story a few weeks earlier alleging she was pregnant when Thanos arrived for the final battle. Tony smirked and suggested she tell them she had a grief fling with his best friend then watch to see who came forward to claim that title.

"That's not funny," she said.

"Okay, that was thoughtless," he sighed. "Still, it would be funny for Rhodey."

"You're terrible," she offered despite cuddling closer to him.

"Yet you've reproduced with me," he grinned. "What does that make you, Miss Potts?"

"Charitable or damaged."

He winced at the remark but said he found it accurate. He then asked the real question on the topic. Did she think it was necessary to resurrect him publicly?

"I don't know," Pepper replied. "It's been wonderful having you here without the rest of the world invading our lives, but it would also be nice if you could go to my appointments with me like you did when I was carrying Morgan. I know I definitely want you in the delivery room with me when the time comes."

He jokingly suggested having the baby at home and calling in Banner to serve as a midwife. That remark fell flat and earned him flaring nostrils of disagreement and tightly puckered mouth of displeasure.

"Okay, no jokes," he relented. "Officially anointing me as alive again comes with all the _me_ baggage."

She nodded, the euphoria of her earlier smile was replaced with a frown of worry. Whether it was a global love fest or an extreme backlash about not being told the truth, there wouldn't be any quiet or peace for the Stark family for a while after the news broke. As it was, Pepper had a team of lawyers fighting a dozen biographers attempting to gain access to Tony's and the company's private records. The team of litigators were threatening lawsuits for the more outrageous manuscripts being peddled. On the tame side, there was a History Channel biopic being worked on for which she had just that week politely declined an interview. So, wishful thinking aside, the world wasn't showing any sign of losing interest in the legend of Tony Stark.

"Which is," she concluded, "your fault."

"My fault?" he questioned. "Where is there fault here?"

"You and your ego spent half your lifetime compiling a cult of personality," she reminded him.

"Oh, that," he shrugged. "Oops."

"Yeah, oops," she sighed. "There's more interest now because being a martyr makes it 10 times worse."

He questioned the word worse. He didn't see how fascination with an interesting figure of the times would be considered a bad thing. Of course, that reasoning was precisely what caused most of the problem, he realized so he ceased defending himself. Both agreed the whole thing could turn ugly if how was revealed that he was in fact alive was done wrong. Stark Industries was a cornerstone of the world's economy. If that were to falter, the impact globally would be catastrophic, she said.

"Catastrophic," Tony repeated her word with a sigh. "Yeah. I guess that's typical for me. I'm not letting you take any flak for that. They can say what they want about me, but I won't sit idly by if there's any…"

Pepper stopped him mid-rant with a hand placed gently on his cheek.

"Tony," she interrupted calmly, "I will be fine. I'm good at what I do, and I've had a lot of experience dealing with… your fallout. We don't need to rush into any decisions, and I don't want to shove you into the spotlight before you're ready. My reputation and the company can survive rumors or social media rebellions prompted by an unexplained baby bump. Just promise me you won't do anything, I mean anything at all, without my express agreement on that front. Okay?"

He could see worry pinched in her eyes. It wasn't from worry about her good name. It wasn't concern for peaceful sailing with the Board of Directors. It wasn't even fear of impacting stable prices on market shares. It was for him and him alone.

"For the record," he said, "I don't care what gets said about me. I do take issue with anyone insulting and offending mother of my children."

Pepper grinned at the passion in his assertion and anger.

"You're liking the use of the plural there," she noted.

"I am," he grinned, his whole demeanor shifting instantly. "Maybe that's what we do. We just wait until the baby arrives and show the world of picture of him or her with big sister Morgan. No one will care that I was allegedly dead when you got pregnant. They'll be enthralled with two perfect kids. I could sell that to the media. I'm fabulous with the press."

"You have your moments," she agreed as he began working on her remaining buttons. "Just don't do anything to get on their radar until we decide it's time."

**oOoOo**


	14. Chapter 14

**oOoOo**

The streets were wet. Slush pooled along the curbs. Eaves of buildings dripped as a dreary gray blanket of flannel covered the borough.

_Actually_, Peter thought as he looked up and sighed, _it covered the whole city. Probably the whole state… eastern seaboard… maybe even the whole world_.

School was done for a week. A well-earned break, his teachers said.

He could have cared less. Classes bled one into the other. Academic team practice was boring. He listlessly mumbled his way through that. Ned did his best to keep up the chatter and the banter, but honestly Peter didn't care about much of anything. He just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. When he was there, in his dreams, anything was possible. The world was brighter and time didn't mean anything. He could go back to the moment before his world broke and do what he was meant to do: save people… or maybe just one person.

He was still forcing himself to do his rounds at night (when he could bring himself to put on the suit). He made himself promise he would patrol four times each week. In the last week, he'd stopped a car robbery and a mugging that month. Each was important, but none felt like they made a big difference. The would-be car thieves were claiming police brutality after the cops arrived and were a little rough putting on the cuffs. Part of that was Peter's fault as his webbing was difficult to remove before it began to dissolve so when the cops pulled on the strands it must have left marks like they tried to bust the culprits' wrists with their own steal cuffs. The mugging victim actually maced Peter while in the process of being rescued. The suit protected him, but it smelled a bit afterward and left him making up some strange story about a chemistry class mishap to Aunt May so she wouldn't be worried.

Things only got more depressing when he received a text from Happy. He wasn't going to be around on Christmas. Instead, he was traveling upstate to see the Stark family. Peter ached for them. He briefly met Morgan Stark and her mother at the funeral a few months earlier. Pepper was composed and gracious; she reminded him of Aunt May just with a bit more. Morgan was quiet and he suspected that was not moral from her. She spent most of that day clinging to her mother or Happy. So it stood to reason that for this holiday, Happy would want to be close to them. He'd spent Thanksgiving with Peter and Aunt May but seemed sad. It was apparent he missed someone as much as Peter did.

Peter shook his head and willed himself not to think about Mr. Stark.

_He wouldn't want me crying about him_, he told himself.

Peter mopped his eyes with the sleeve of his damp hoodie as he turned the corner toward the bus he needed to catch to get to their new apartment. He could have swung his way there is less time, he supposed, but he wasn't publicly a superhero. Drawing attention to himself, according to Colonel Rhodes' and Captain America's advice at the funeral, was not a smart choice at this point. Low profile was the preferred approach, they insisted. It seemed odd to counsel that while attending a funeral for the guy who announced to the world many years before that he was Iron Man, but Mr. Stark had been different. Other rules applied to him… or maybe no rules had except one: Everything that lives will one day die.

With a heavy heart and zero interest in it being lunch time on the day before Christmas, he walked past several sub shops and a pizza joint as well as the street food venders. His stomach was tight with hunger, but he wasn't in the mood to eat. He wanted his bed and the oblivion a nap might bring. He looked up from his scuffing feet to check the traffic before crossing the street when he saw a familiar face.

Sargent Barnes, as Cap had introduced him, was the reason Peter got to meet Mr. Stark in the first place. It was his attempted capture that prompted bringing Peter out of the shadows of Queens and into the fray in Germany. Since the guy was at Mr. Stark's funeral, Peter reasoned that whatever had happened all those years ago was now old news and no longer of interest to the Avengers. That the guy was standing in an alleyway watching a building in broad daylight made it apparent he wasn't hiding from anyone.

"Sargent Barnes?" Peter addressed the man in the drenched canvas coat and dripping ball cap. "You might not remember me but…"

Before he could finish his introduction, Peter was off his feet then had his back pressed against the gritty wall of the adjacent building. The man's grip was firm but not aggressive. The look in his eyes was surprised but not angry.

"You're Stark's protégé," Bucky said in a soft voice at odds with his recent physical action. "What are you doing here? Did Sam send you?"

"Sam?" Peter questioned. "Uh, do you mean Mr. Wilson, uh, Falcon? No. I haven't seen him since Mr. Stark's… you know."

Bucky released the kid upon deciding he wasn't stalking or reporting back to Sam. He knew little about the kid and his abilities other than he was a child but had been brought into the Avengers' conflict by Stark, who apparently trusted the kid. His choice seemed well-founded since the kid survived the battle when his mentor did not.

"Queens?" Bucky noted and got a nod. "Steve told me. We grew up in Brooklyn."

"Well, no one's perfect," Peter shrugged, feeling the need to jab at a fellow New Yorker, especially after his friend dropped a jetway on Peter to help this man escape. "What are you doing in the city?"

"Working," Bucky scoffed. "Keeping an eye on someone. The thing is I…"

His voice trailed off. He couldn't get into the building unseen again. Osborne was in there and Bucky had every reason to believe his weirdo partner with the shiny suit was inside, too. The trouble was, he had no way to get close to eavesdrop. However, he turned his eyes to Peter, and smiled.

"I think I need your help," Bucky said. "It's Parker, right?"

"Peter Parker, sir, or Spiderman," he nodded then cleared his throat. "But just Parker is good. Fine really."

"Alright, Parker," Bucky yanked him back toward the mouth of the alleyway again. "I'm interested in that corner window on the 10th floor. I need to know who is in there and what they're saying. Think that's something you can help me find out?"

"You want me to just report back to you or do you want me to record what I can pick up?" Peter said eagerly unzipping his hoodie and activating the nano-tech in the so-called 17-A Iron Spider suit.

**oOoOo**

Happy pulled his car to a stop at the end of the driveway at the Stark home. A bright afternoon sun reflected off the lake and glistened on the carpet of snow surrounding the house. The blanket of white was not smooth and pristine. Evidence of little feet trampling all over it marred its perfection, and that made him grin. The kid was at least running around outside and having fun with whoever watched her now that she didn't come to the office with her mother.

Happy had missed his half-pint charge. He was the head of corporate security and had heard whispers of being called a babysitter when Pepper initially asked him to watch over Morgan during those times when she needed privacy in the corporate office once she returned to work. Happy didn't feel like she took enough time off after the funeral, but Stark Industries was a huge company. Time away from the helm was courting disasters so he instantly agreed to be Morgan's overseer when Pepper came to the office building. The kid wasn't much trouble. In fact, the hardest part of watching her was finding the will to say no to her and keeping from crying anytime she did something that reminded Happy of her late father. Tony had been like an unruly little brother to Happy. He'd done his utmost for a decade to keep him personally safe until he build titanium armor and went looking for trouble.

Happy looked at the house, the last place Tony ever lived and the one place he ever seemed content, and sighed. A hard, dry lump swelled in his throat as he blinked his eyes clear of any mist that formed there. This was a holiday. They were going to keep it light and joyful for Morgan's sake, he vowed. He also wanted Pepper to remember that she wasn't alone and he was always there for whatever she and the squirt needed. After all, in his heart, Tony's family was Happy's family, too.

As a courtesy, he sent a quick text to Pepper, letting her know he was there and would be at the door in a moment. Her response said to just walk right in so he did once he'd gathered the bag with presents out of the car. He'd bought Morgan a stack of new books (only in part because he'd grown tired of the same dozen or so that she made him read over and over during the days surrounding the funeral). Happy knew she was like her father in that something new would distract her, if only for a little while. He took a deep breath to clear his head and his thoughts as he vowed he would not think of Tony for the next few days and instead focus on just the two ladies who were going to be his hostesses. As he made his way to the house, there was a strange whirling sound in the air that he noted but chose to ignore as he instead noted there were evergreen wreaths hung on the porch and a battalion of snowmen erected in the side yard so that the place looked festive and in the swing of the holiday.

"Hello?" he called as he stumped into the house and stomped the snow off his shoes.

"In the living room," Pepper called back cheerfully.

He arrived in the room as directed to see a crackling fire in the stone hearth and a large, virtual Christmas tree stationed by the windows facing the lake. The effect was impressive. The lights and bulbs shimmered yet he could also see through the boughs to the lake so the room was both bright and festive.

"That's quite something," he said. "No mess to pick up either."

"Well, Morgan makes enough messes without adding pine needles to the mix," Pepper smiled as she hugged him. "Thank you for being here."

"Wouldn't miss it," he said. "Merry Christmas. The place looks great outside, too. She's got quite the army of snowmen."

"Snow warriors and snow fans," she corrected him. "I think the warriors are the ones with the sticks, but that seems to change from day to day. So far, they haven't attacked, retreated, or applauded anything so we'll need to wait and see what their plan is."

Happy chuckled and felt some of his melancholy lift. He had been prepared to be the one who had to keep things merry that holiday. The first ones after losing a loved one were supposed to be the hardest. Thanksgiving was dreadful in that respect for Happy. He'd been with May and Peter, which was great, but two of them were locked in their personal miseries and could do nothing but try not to let the other catch him tearing up at odd moments as the TV and radio played accounts of people who had returned and offered praise for the Avengers, most especially the fallen hero, who made returning to their lives possible.

"How was the drive?" Pepper asked. "The storm was mostly rain in the city?"

"Yeah, it's sloppy down there," he noted. "It changed over to snow around Hyde Park. I was glad to see it. Actually, I'm glad to see all of this. It's… Christmas-y. I wasn't sure what to expect when I got here. I know this going to be hard for you. How are you? Haven't seen you when you're in the office much lately and the kid's here with her new nanny, whoever that is."

"Happy," Pepper began but stopped as large, red, toy helicopter buzzed the side windows then banked hard right toward the trees.

"What was that?" he asked instantly as he walked through the virtual tree toward the site of the disturbance.

"That's the other reason you're here besides the holiday," she said.

"Morgan got a new toy already?" he asked feeling dejected that she might not like his books if she had her own drone to fly. "You want me to check it out? See if it's safe? That seemed a little advanced for a child."

"Depends on the child," Pepper nodded. "I suspect her playmate just buzzed the house not her."

"She's out there with a friend flying a drone?"

She coaxed him away from the lake-facing windows and toward those that faced the side yard. Further away, just beyond the rank and file of snowmen, closer to the garage, Morgan stood bundled up from the cold, hopping up and down with delight as she pointed at her flying machine. Beside her stood the pilot, taking direction from her.

"This is going to sound crazy," Pepper explained, "and it kind of is, but I'm hoping that after everything for the last however many years that you have experience while working for…"

Whatever else she said, it slid past Happy. He stared hard out the window as he spied a man with dark hair, distinctive sunglasses, and a familiar profile standing beside Morgan while holding the remote for the helicopter.

"Who's that out there with Morgan?" Happy asked. "Pepper, there's a man…" He blinked and shook his head. "There's a… That's… Oh my god. I think I'm having a stroke. Is my face lopsided?"

He gripped the window casing and turned worried eyes to Pepper for a second before wrenching his gaze back to the yard. The figure was now kneeling beside Morgan and putting her hands on the controls of the remote.

"No, Happy, you're fine," Pepper explained.

He pointed wildly toward the yard then pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. He'd had a lot of dreams about Tony, mostly involving cars and showing up to ask Happy to do something when he was busy doing something else and unable to break away. This was different.

"I'm…," he gasped as he pointed. "There's… I mean, it looks like…. Is it some sort of robot thing the super friends built for you?"

"No," she shook her head. "That's the main reason you're here. We wanted you here for Christmas with us and because we wanted you to know that Tony's home."

"I can see that, but what is it really?" he asked. "A hologram? Some sort of CGI thing? Like his message from his helmet? That one is so life-like. It can even fly a remote control helicopter."

She took several minutes repeating what she'd said already, assuming him it wasn't a hologram while the duo outside continued to fly the helicopter oblivious to being observed.

"That's actually Tony—flesh, bones and," Pepper winced as her husband let Morgan fly her new toy into the side of a sprawling pine tree, "questionable decisions."

"How is that possible?" Happy hyperventilated. "Did he clone himself? He did, didn't he? I asked him if someone could do that years ago. I figured if someone could, it would be Tony so he could, you know, get out of doing things he didn't want to do. He told me the technology didn't exist to clone a human properly. He figured it out, didn't he? He left one behind."

"No," Pepper shook her head. "That's not a clone. That's Tony himself."

"It can't be," he protested. "Tony's dead. You told me. I was at the funeral. We watched his farewell message right in this room. The whole world was told that he died."

He looked from her earnest expression to the yard where the figure was retrieving the no longer aloft toy from the ground below the tree while holding Morgan's hand. They two then began trudging toward the house.

"That's the real him?" Happy choked up. "So, he sent the clone in his place to face down that alien and the clone died?"

"There was no clone," Pepper assured him as she gripped his hand for support. "There are things that happen that don't make any sense until you revel in some real mind-twisting science, which I do not. All that matters and all that you need to you to know is that Tony is alive. He's home where he belongs with me and Morgan. None of that is public information. I don't know when or if it will ever be. Very few people know, but we wanted you to be one of them."

Happy nodded although she was not sure he fully understood or accepted yet what was happening. She knew she could trust his discretion. He'd been protecting Tony since before she ever knew him. Happy was the most devoted employee Tony ever had and (other than the executive assistant that he eventually married) his most beloved and cherished.

"He's the nanny who replaced me?" he finally asked in a husky voice. "You don't have a… a… a new… you know… special friend keeping the home fires burning?"

"Whatever you do, don't say that to him," Pepper groaned. "He's a little schizo already about those rumors. He likes thinking it's something naughty we've got going on, then he gets jealous of himself when he thinks people whisper that I replaced him so quickly. I've never curbed his eccentric nature, but I also don't encourage the crazier parts of it."

Happy searched the yard again but the duo was no longer in sight. He shrugged and shook his head bewildered, still not certain he wasn't dreaming. Pepper did offer one other bit of information, the part where Tony's memory had a five year gap. Other than that, she explained all was well.

"He didn't remember a wedding he waited 10 years for and didn't remember Morgan?" Happy whistled lowly. "That's some serious amnesia. Is he okay otherwise? Like is he…?"

He twirled is finger around his ear counter clock wise to signal a mental defect.

"No more than usual," Pepper smiled. "As for how any of this happened, the leading theory involves a complete revision of quantum physics, which Tony assures me is now a shaky discipline so I shouldn't let it influence any of my decisions."

Happy cocked is eyebrow up and offered her a blank look.

"Did it before?"

"Not as far as I know, but he felt the need to tell me anyway," she said as the sound of small feet racing on the porch floorboards echoed in the room. "He's still trying to factor it out in an equation. Mostly, it gives him headaches so I try not to raise the subject."

"Does Rhodey know about this?"

She explained that Rhodes was the first to know and that he was the person who brought her the news. She added that he assisted in providing additional security to the property. Happy straightened his shoulders and tightened his jaw.

"Security?" he repeated. "Do you need me to step in? Take care of things? I remember my roots. Pepper, I can keep him safe—I can keep all of you safe. I spent years driving Tony and watching out for him… when he'd let me. I can keep him… well, not out of trouble, but…"

"Nobody seems to be able to do that," she smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thank you, but that's not necessary. We're safe; the security is mostly for privacy. Besides, you're our guest this weekend."

At that moment, the door opened. Tony and Morgan entered. Their cheeks were red from the cold. Morgan struggled out of her boots but left her coat, hat, sunglasses, and mittens on as she raced into the room and flung herself at Happy's knees while squealing his name. He lifted her at her demand then received a quick hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek before scrambling down to report her joyous news.

"We crashed my 'copter!" she cheered.

"Not we," Tony disagreed as he came down the hall carrying the fuselage with the now-bent rotor. "She. She crashed it. She's a terrible pilot. My father would be appalled." He looked down at the child and smirked. "We need to discuss vertical axis and lift rations before your next flight; put that on our schedule for next week, okay?"

Morgan nodded and began peeling off her outer garments as Happy turned his stare at his former boss. His jaw began quivering as Pepper took the damaged toy from Tony's grip and nodded for him to greet their guest.

"Hi, Happy, good to see you," Tony said simply just before he was enveloped in a crushing bear hug from the man. "Okay, you're breaking my ribs, buddy. Why is my neck getting wet? Are you crying? Tell me you're not crying."

"He's crying," Morgan offered helpfully. "Is it because my 'copter is broke? Does he need a juice pop?"

"Maybe," Tony answered still smooshed in the embrace while he patted his friend's back as Morgan dashed toward the kitchen.

"No," Pepper vetoed the child's plans. "Stay out of the freezer. You're practically a popsicle after being outside for so long." She looked at the two men and offered her husband some help. "Happy, you can let him go. Tony's not going anywhere."

The former driver and bodyguard sniffled and stepped back, mopping his face with his sleeve.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled then held out is hand in a more formal greeting. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you, too," Tony said. "So I'm here—that covers all that business. You look good. In other news, Pepper's pregnant."

"Tony!" she snapped and scoffed exasperatedly from the kitchen.

"You said you weren't telling other people," he shrugged. "I think we can agree that Happy isn't _other_ people."

"Are you serious?" Happy inquired looked from Tony to Pepper. "Is he joking, or were the tabloids right?"

Pepper sighed and scowled, mostly at her husband's flagrant breaking of a rule that he fully understood despite his recent excuse to the contrary.

"The tabloids got lucky," she scowled.

"They weren't the only ones," Tony mumbled as her smirked.

"Like Tony's presence," Pepper emphasized, "that is also considered classified information for the time being."

Happy nodded eagerly as his formerly pale and startled expression faded into a rosy grin. He quivered with excitement and threw a beefy arm around Tony's shoulders and squeezed him. Normally, Tony would have recoiled at being touched. He was not someone who enjoyed most physical contact unless it was from Pepper or Morgan or unless he initiated it; however, Happy had served as his bodyguard for a long enough time that Tony was accustom to the man throwing his body in front of him, pinning him to walls, floors, or whatever was a convenient to serve as a security barrier if situations turned unstable. He allowed the man his exuberant hug and decided it was job to take this hit. Considering Happy's excitement, Tony worried he might inadvertently bruise Pepper. What he was not prepared for was the kiss he got on the cheek.

"Okay, big guy," Tony extricated himself. "We agreed to see other people, remember?"

"What?" Happy scrunched his face then shook his head. "Right. Sorry. Just… This is great! You're back, and we're having another baby! See, I knew, all those years ago, that she was the best thing that ever happened to you. Man, this is the greatest Christmas gift!"

"Just so we're clear," Tony said, "you don't get to keep me or the baby."

"If you fly that helicopter into the side of the house again, he can keep you," Pepper warned.

Tony turned to Happy and shook his head as he offered a conspiratorial smirk.

"That's hormonal anger, not real anger," he muttered as Happy clapped him on the shoulder as he continued to beam while Tony lifted the damaged toy from the counter. "Come on. I've gotta fix this. You may as well tag along. If I get the urge to do something extra fun so you can try stopping me."

They trekked to the shop in the garage. Happy wandered around the space, having been in there countless times in the previous five years. He'd always been afraid to touch anything, never certain what of Tony's tools or toys might be explosive, dangerous, or too expensive to replace on his salary if he broke it. There was also the issue of Tony not generally liking anyone to invade his work space. Previously, only the robots he made himself were allowed to be present and assist him. After the funeral, Happy had peeked into the room and felt it appropriate that the room was dark, like it was draped in a funeral shroud. Seeing the lights on again and activity in progress eased an unspeakable ache he'd carried in his heart for months.

"I still can't believe you're here," he sniffed tears flooded his eyes again while Tony began loosening bolts to remove the broken top rotor. "Saying goodbye to you was… Tony, that was the hardest thing I've ever done. Twenty-five years I've been watching your back. You're my family. I get the secrecy thing with your whole superhero club, but you could have trusted me, too."

"Sorry," Tony said sincerely. "I didn't have a say in any of it. Even Pepper didn't know at first. It was all really confusing for a few weeks. It still is. We're not going public for… a lot of reasons."

"Whatever you say, boss," Happy chuckled as he knuckled moisture from his eyes. "I thought I was done being surprised by you, but now you're here and there's a new baby coming. It's great. Hey, how did the kid react?"

Tony shook his head and said they hadn't told Morgan about her sibling yet.

"I meant Peter," Happy elaborated. "How did he take knowing you're back? I haven't seen him in the last couple days, but he's been struggling with losing you. It was hard on him, being with you when, you know… I guess you laid down the law with him on the secrecy because he didn't even text me."

Tony said nothing. He focused on the rotor blades, eyeballing their edges and grimacing at the bend in them that did not belong there. Happy stared then hung his head as he groaned.

"You haven't told him," Happy guessed and exhaled in a loud and disappointing tone. "Tony, you're his hero, his mentor, his…"

"His distraction from being a kid in high school who needs to have a life and get back into it," Tony added. "The reason he nearly died, too. He's been gone for five years. He needs to focus on today and tomorrow not wallow in the past."

"Do you want me to tell him?" Happy asked but got a stern shake of the head in response. "So now I gotta keep this a secret from him? Tony, I'm sort of involved with his aunt."

Tony grinned lecherously.

"Yes, Aunt May," he nodded. "I heard. I'm proud of you, Hap. That's impressive. She's hot for an aunt."

"She is, but she thinks I've got issues," Happy shrugged as he sighed.

"Pepper thinks I've got issues, too," Tony added.

"You do have issues," he agreed. "In fact, you've got so many issues that one of my issues is you."

"I don't have '_so many issues'_," Tony looked up from his tinkering. "I have a few issues. Quality issues, no doubt, but that's the point. Quality, not quantity."

Happy shook his head and began issuing the laundry list of issues his former employer had, banging up a finger with each one as he made his point.

"You've got issues with your father," he began, "with pretty much any kind of authority, with following directions, with putting your life in danger, with people handing you things, with being questioned by anyone about just about anything, with control. You just came back from the dead, and you aren't telling people who really would want to know about that—and those aren't even all the issues you've got."

Tony nodded, agreeing with the list but not seeing a problem with anything on it.

"Yes, but I've got Pepper," he said. "That's important. I got her in spite of my issues. So, the point I'm making right now is: you, your issues, and Aunt May. Sounds like a cozy threesome. Just don't let the kid walk in on you. I think the world's scarred him enough for now. Hang a sock on the door, pal."

"Forget about me," Happy said. "What does all this mean for you and the mighty heroes? Are you still suiting up or…?"

"No," Tony answered firmly. "I'm done. Out. Retired. Completely. For good. My mission is the people in that house. That's it."

"Glad to hear you say that," he sighed with relief. "I know that you feel sometimes like you have to make up for stuff that's not really your… Whoa! What the... Tony!"

Happy shot across the space as Tony's head suddenly drooped forward and he slumped onto the work table while blood gushed from his nose. Happy's arm was under his shoulder, holding him up. Happy was speaking rapidly and on the verge of summoning help when Tony shook his head and came to once more. He noted Happy had a handkerchief out of his pocket and was pressing it to his face while he walked Tony man backward to take a seat in the nearby chair.

"Tony?" his voice had a frantic edge. "Look at me. Can you hear me? Yeah, keep your chin up. Are you lightheaded?"

"I'm fine," he said in a muffled voice beneath the cloth pressed to his face as he struggled free. "I'm alright."

"This is not alright," Happy disagreed.

"It is actually," Tony nodded as he managed to get to his feet and stagger to the sink. "Don't worry about this. It's nothing."

"You're bleeding like you just got your nose broken," Happy observed. "What's wrong?"

Tony scoffed. Lying as a response came to mind first. He planned to see Banner in 48 hours. Until then, a nose bleed was nothing. He was saved the trouble of outright telling tales to his friend by the man's worry.

"I'll get Pepper," he said and turned toward the door.

"Don't," Tony ordered. "She's seen this happen already. Don't mention it to her. No reason to worry her."

"Tony?" he questioned. "Is this anything to do with what made us all think you were dead? Do you need to get some obscure specialist here to look at you?"

"Nobody specializes in what this is," Tony replied. "It's just bloody nose so keep this between us. I trust you to trust me. Come on. We used to be good at this. I don't want to worry Pepper about anything."

While he was speaking, he'd activated FRIDAY's sensors. As Happy mulled the situation, Tony lifted the helmet that rested on the counter where he left it after getting gratefully out of the armor after the scan he sent to banner. Under the guises of washing his face, he leaned down into the sink basin and slipped the headpiece on for a few seconds and issued the order to do a quick scan. After several seconds, he replaced the helmet on the table top and dried his face.

In the meantime, Happy sighed, obviously torn between believing Tony and believing his eyes, as well as not being pleased to keep a secret from Pepper. For as glad as he was to have Tony back, Happy was reminded how complicated life around Tony had become over the years. Of course, the guy was the smartest person Happy ever met and had a knack for pulling through even when everything said he shouldn't (like when he'd been thought dead and even got a funeral).

"Okay," Happy nodded, "but if anything happens that is a concern or if you need me to do anything, you tell me."

"Agreed," Tony said as turned back toward his guest. "Actually, I do have two things for you to do. First, Morgan's worried Santa won't know where to find you. If she asks, tell her you're not worried."

"I don't know, Chief," Happy shrugged. "I'm not sure Santa does know where to find me."

"Maybe that's because you're on the Naughty List," Tony offered. "Is Aunt May? For your sake, I hope so."

"You know, I could take offense to comments like that," he said.

"To do that convincingly," Tony remarked as he walked past the man and swatted him playfully on the belly, "you'd have to not be smiling so widely."

They walked back to the house in the descending darkness as Tony gave Happy his second assignment. He was surprised by it but agreed readily. He hadn't traveled for work in several months. A day trip to Tennessee would be a nice break in the routine.

**oOoOo**

The holiday was a bit of chaos in the Stark house. Morgan was up early and demanded that everyone else join her. Tony and Pepper made their way downstairs to find that their daughter had coaxed Happy into making pancakes. He shrugged and hoped he hadn't woken them. The rest of the day went smoothly. Morgan opened her gifts and was relieved to see Happy's gifts had made it as well. She dragged him outside several times to view her fleet of snowmen and help her build new ones.

Happy remained at the house the day after the holiday as well. He was in no hurry to get back to the city. He was still working on his game face, the one he would show Peter when he dropped by to see May. The kid needed to hear some good news, and it would half kill Happy to withhold what he needed to hear most of all. Happy planned to work on Tony a bit, soften him up to the idea, and stop worrying so much about Peter. The kid was smart and he was a bona fide superhero. But the chance didn't come as Tony announced that Dr. Banner sent him an email asking for his help. He departed, getting a ride from one of the security forces who was watching over the house. That left Happy alone with the females of the Stark household. He sensed from Pepper's mood after Tony left that she was surprised by his decision to leave. Ever the peacemaker and feeling the old protective urge where Tony was concerned, Happy began chatting to assure Pepper everything was fine a couple hours after Tony left to see Banner.

"He was in his mad scientist lair the other day," Happy noted. "Now he's off helping another one of his science guys. That's good, right? Tony's always doing pretty good when he's creating things as long as he doesn't go a few days without sleep, right?"

"He's got a curfew," Pepper nodded. "Three nights each week, Morgan's bedtime routine is his to oversee. I get the other four since he gets to monopolize her time during the days. On his nights away, I have FRIDAY cut the power to everything except the emergency lights at 10 o'clock out there just in case he's still tinkering. He was really good about putting it all away before dinner until about a week ago."

She explained that was when Morgan began jabbering about going to camp the next summer and how she hoped a certain child she met the previous year was there because he was her buddy and she missed him. Tony listened with his typical expression of general interest but a worry furrow formed in his brow, part parental concern and part disappointment he had no recollection about Morgan ever attending a summer day camp previously.

"So now I'm trying to figure out how to keep Tony from creating and installing nano cameras in her backpack so he can monitor her while she's at camp," Pepper said.

"He worried about something specific?" Happy asked, rolling his shoulders as he too prepared to muscle into the dangerous world of kindergarten summer camp programming.

"Yes: boys," Pepper smirked. "All of them, everywhere."

"That's the imminent threat?" Happy grinned. "The opposite sex?"

"Let's say he's had a _stark_ realization regarding his own youthful behavior and fears that will come back to haunt him," she laughed. "I know I shouldn't find his worry funny, but I kind of enjoy it. If he's going to worry about something he can't predict or control, I would rather it was something like this."

FRIDAY suddenly joined the conversation, informing them of an arrive visitor: Rhodes. Happy went to the door, blocking the portal entirely as he stood to greet the arriving colonel.

"Where were you yesterday?" Happy asked. "We practically had the band back together. Tony, me, Pepper. All that was missing was Rhodey."

He nodded, not taking in most of what the man said. He looked past him to Pepper while sporting an urgent expression.

"Is it possible for Happy to stay with Morgan for a bit?" he asked.

"Why?" Pepper asked. "What's going on?"

"You need to come with me," Rhodes said. "Bruce has been doing some tests and… I don't have all the details, but he's got Tony in the infirmary. He needs some sort of medical procedure."

**oOoOo**


	15. Chapter 15

**oOoOo**

Bucky sat in the front of the "borrowed" pickup truck he drove to the turn-off spot designated for his meeting. He'd canceled the meet up twice—the first time just because he could and wanted to hear the desperation in Sam's voice. It was childish, but the guy needed to respect his elders. Failing that, Sam needed to learn that he wasn't Bucky's boss so giving orders over the phone wouldn't get him anything. Also, Bucky thought it might not be a bad idea for the guy to stop acting like he was a parole officer and Bucky was a particularly dim-witted convict under his supervision.

The former Winter Soldier stretched his shoulders and neck as a wet snow began falling. He hated the cold. It reminded him of Russia. He shook off that feeling and opened his phone to listen to his junior watchman's (watchki'sd?) exuberant message once more—not because the information might give him new insight but because he got a kick out of the teen's excitement.

"Sargent Barnes, this is Peter… Um, I mean, this is Parker," he reported. "So I did like you said. I came down on the side of the building, not the street side, but the other one near the alley. There were two guys in there like you said. I couldn't exactly see them but Karen, she's my AI… that's artificial intelligence, so she's like my computer's voice so it can talk to me—not that you wouldn't know what AI means. Anyway, so Karen was able to use an infrared scan and a parabolic mic. I recorded it all, and I sent it to your phone. If you don't know how to pull it up, I can show you. Those guys are not up to anything good. They were talking about targets and missing people and… If you need help, like at all, with maybe rescuing someone or taking… um, taking someone down, you know like in a forceful way, I can help. I've got experience and… It's just that this was really good for me. I felt like I was doing something important that might matter in a big way, and I realized I need to do keep doing that. Stopping car thieves is okay and all, but this sounds like it's life and death. So, if you need me, not that you need help, but if you did, you know how to reach me. At this number. Anytime. Seriously. I'm… I'm gonna go now. I can climb anything, and I've got all these really cool things that, um, Mr. Stark made for me and…"

He paused in his rambling to choke on a word before his voice returned sounding shaky but still eager as he signed off.

Bucky had watched the infrared video and listened to the recorded voices. The quality was spectacular. Osborne's colleague was agitated. He wasn't getting the information he needed and felt Osborne's contact that was supposed to have the inside information was not being helpful or quick. The silver-suited man was sounding a little unhinged as he talked about needing to get to his target before it disappeared.

How a woman and her child would just disappear without a kidnapper involved was a point of interest for Bucky, but he would look into that later. He might even send the kid on a mission. The teen apparently knew the Starks because he was at the funeral. He might be able to arrange a visit and see what was going on with them. Perhaps they were simply moving away to a new home far from where Tony died. The kid could find that out for him. He was eager to help and, once Bucky got used to the excitement the teen displayed when doing anything and reporting back about it, Bucky found he was easy to work with. He actually reminded Bucky a bit of Steve when they were younger. There was an innocence and decency to him that came from his core.

But the kid also had a broken heart. Bucky knew that might make sending him to the Starks a little tricky. Stark and Bucky had never been friends, but Bucky couldn't deny the guy had been able to spot talent. He also must have been good with the kid to garner so much rabid devotion.

As he mused about it, a Jeep pulled into the turn off area. Presently, the door to Bucky's vehicle opened. Sam sat down and handed him a paper cup.

"It's coffee," Sam said. "It's black. I drank out of this one already, but if you want to think I poisoned that one and take this one instead. I don't care."

"Not liking you and not trusting you aren't the same thing," Bucky said taking a swig of the hot liquid. "Of course, I don't dislike you. I just think you need to relax a little."

"I must have missed the word relax on my enlistment papers," Sam scoffed. "So, you've got my attention. What can you tell me?"

Bucky smirked and considered launching into a diatribe about the numerous things he could tell the man that had nothing to do with the present situation, but there were heavy bags under the man's eyes and a tense hunch to his shoulders that wreaked of worry.

"Osborne's working with a guy who wants to hit the Stark family somehow," he reported. "He's got someone on the inside of your organization. Maybe more than one person considering I saw Hill chatting with Osborne and I'm certain you had some support staffers, probably in your infirmary area, who were chatting with him. From what I've figured out, this guy who hired Osborne wants something apparently Howard Stark created. Tony wasn't a chemist, was he?"

That was Bucky's greatest concern. If Tony had Howard's formula for a super soldier stashed away in an archive, it needed to be found and destroyed. Howard had obviously rediscovered Erskine's formula because Bucky was sent to retrieve it and kill all witnesses, which resulted in the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark. On that mission, Bucky wasn't told to retrieve any documentation regarding how the stuff was synthesized. As far as he knew, no one ever found those papers.

"No, Tony wasn't a chemist," Sam yawned. "He understands all that science mumbo jumbo, but engineering and physics are his preferred thing. Then again, being a genius, he can pretty much learn whatever he wants if he tried."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and offered the man a critical look

"You give up sleeping?" he asked.

"Burning it at both ends," Sam yawned. "We're tracking fugitives who returned after their five year vacay. Then I got this other assignment which was supposed to be a cakewalk: set up a security perimeter, put a team on it to keep watch and report in regularly. Now, three guys kind of in the middle of this whole thing are either missing or suddenly dead from a pretty unlikely car accident. What was it you just said about our infirmary springing leaks?"

"Just a theory," Bucky shrugged evasively. "So, you're worried about a breach in the security for your other assignment? The base isn't secure?"

"No, the base is fine," Sam said. "My other assignment is away from Camp Delta.'

He then shrugged and said there were other factors in play with that assignment that he didn't anticipate, including the target of the security having an illness that upped the stakes and left Sam questioning who to trust. Adding that to Bucky's worry about Maria Hill and a Hydra operative, sleep, patience, and concentration were in short supply in Sam's world.

"So you think you've got two separate moles running different, unrelated games at the same time?" Bucky shook his head. "I get that things are a mess after years of chaos and the battle, but doesn't that seem unlikely to you? My money says that whoever you don't trust—if you've got a candidate—is working with Hill and therefore Osborne and my silver loon. It's more likely than you having two separate, unrelated leaks. But what do I know? I was just a covert assassin who worked for superspies for 70 years."

Sam groaned and hung his head. Put that way, it did seem more logical. He was stretched thin—too thin for what he was doing—but there was no way around it. They were short-handed with most of the staff running around finding escapees. Until he'd heard Banner's dire report on Tony, he was going to pitch Fury the idea that they ask Tony to join the team again (strictly as an actual consultant with no hands-on work) and see what wild-assed tech gear he could develop to help out. Now that the guy was suffering from some debilitating ailment Banner couldn't even define (and that might be the plot of a slow motion assassination), Sam knew using Tony in anyway was not an option. The guy needed to be hidden, buried deep, and shielded in every way they could manage.

"There's this guy," Sam confessed. "I set up a team to protect him—Fury's orders—but I was hoping to get the guy's help at the same time. Only, that plan changed. He's off the board entirely. It's knocked me back to realize he can't help. I made a miscalculation. I relied too much on history. I got used to thinking that him being around meant that he could lend a hand. Now, I'm running thinner on this than I like."

"You served with the guy in the past?" Bucky asked. He knew the look and the tone of brothers-in-arms. "Losing him that big of a deal?"

"Yeah, it galls me to say it, but it is," Sam nodded. "We weren't BFFs, but he always came through when he was needed. I'm just noticing the hole not having him leaves. He was… creative. Inventive, I guess is the word. He was headstrong and kind of impetuous, but he could think on the fly and make changes quick when we needed it. It made him difficult to work with but also an ace up the sleeve when we needed it, you know?"

Bucky nodded as the windshield wipers cleared the screen of newly falling flakes as the night pressed against the windows.

"I knew guys like that in the Army—we called 'em _artists_," he said. "They'd just make up a plan right there and bam, redraw the whole strategy. The situation could change in a snap after that—sometimes for the better, sometimes not. They were pains in the ass usually but helpful in a bind. Gotta have room for all types on a team. I always considered myself more of the guy to plug the gap and hold the line. I'm there to do whatever needs to be done—be the good soldier. Steve was always the leader once he was… commissioned."

Bucky smirked. No matter how many missions they did, part of him would never stop seeing his friend as the short, skinny, asthmatic for a tenement in Brooklyn.

"Could use him on this, too," Sam sighed. "I know he's retired. I just wish."

"Wishing isn't a course of action," Bucky shook his head. "You going to look into Osborne, or do I need to keep my guy on him?"

"You got a guy now?" he asked. "You running your own team? Tell me there isn't another one like you that's doing his 12-step evil-dude rehab. I don't have the time or manpower to put someone on your crusade. If you've got nothing concrete telling me that the Starks are definitely in the crosshairs, then I'm going to hang back on this for now. Just tell me that you and your guy won't start anything I need to finish."

Bucky smiled and said he had a guy with good eyes and good ears who was just observing Osborne from a distance. He promised to pass along anything he found out to Sam if it seemed relevant. That offer got a steady nod as he moved to open the door and yawned.

"Hey, Sam," Bucky advised kindly. "You need rest. You're missing the obvious things like your two leaks are probably just one with more than one person doing the work. You're getting personal and sentimental about your team, too. Oh, and you spoke about Stark like he's still alive. Your chain of command is going to hear that and put you in a padded room if it keeps up."

**oOoOo**

**Camp Delta**

**Dec. 27th**

Tony lay back on the hospital bed as Banner drew another round of blood. They'd begun the session two hours earlier with Banner explaining his findings. The patient took the doctor's assessment stoically and even had a detached clinical discussion about it since Tony was the one who raised the possibility of a highly likely yet devastating answer.

"If I came through a rift between realities, we need to consider entropic cascade failure," Tony offered.

The concept was simple when broken down. Things that didn't belong in a reality would cease to be in that reality—cellular decay at a rapid rate would take care of the problem. That would mean Tony wasn't sick so much as the world, the kinetic and electromagnetic forces that kept everything humming on an atomic level, was trying to scrub him off the board because he didn't belong there.

"We don't know that's the case," Banner replied.

"You don't like it because that means this is game over," Tony said. "I don't like it either, but it explains a lot of this."

"Not all of it," Banner insisted.

"Nuclear level degeneration, skewed electromagnetic signature, elevated presence of decaying Rydberg atoms," Tony listed the factors. "It's all catching up to me."

"Maybe," Banner agreed reluctantly, "but that doesn't make it necessarily fatal. Considering the number of cells within the human body and the fact that the body regenerates them constantly, the degradation ratio is so small—infinitesimal percentage-wise…"

"It doesn't feel infinitesimal," Tony noted. "Bruce, just say it. I'm dying, albeit slowly. You said when I got here that the previous diagnosis of anemia was wrong, but you ran tests just now. What did they tell you? Anemia—now confirmed. Now, I'm not a medical doctor…"

"You're not any kind of doctor," Banner argued but was ignored.

"…but as far as I know," Tony continued, "a few bloody noses, some blood in my ear, and a couple bruises don't result in anemia. That means there's likely internal bleeding or my bone marrow has ceased doing its job."

Banner nodded. He'd reached that conclusion as well. When Tony arrived that day, he'd been coughing (raising blood when he did) and complaining of some tightness in his chest. An x-ray showed a buildup of fluid in the lower lobs of both lungs.

"How long were you're having trouble breathing?" he asked.

"That depends," Tony said. "Do sudden sharp pains that swiftly fade followed by unexplained shortness of breath and the occasional hacking up blood constitute trouble? Yeah? Okay, then maybe a couple days."

"Tony."

"I don't need a lecture," he grumbled as Banner continued to stare. "The day before Christmas… or more accurately the night before the day before."

"Tony, that's four days ago," Banner seethed. "Your moronic need to do these solo acts is going to be the death of you."

"Yeah, I read that after action report," he sighed and snapped his fingers dramatically.

"I don't find that funny."

"Then don't give a eulogy when you bury me again," Tony snapped but deflated as he looked at Banner's worried expression. "Or you could just fix me what's wrong with me so we can talk about something else. We're agreed the problem is nuclear level. That one's in your wheelhouse, Bruce."

Banner sighed and began mulling possibilities. One answer was impossible to consider. The serum that transformed Steve Rogers from a 4-F rejection for the army during World War II was conceivably what would cure Tony. The serum, with the right amount of radiation, could possibly fix everything… or mutate him into a monster like hulk if it didn't kill him. There was always a rumor floating around that someone had cracked Abraham Erskine's formula but no proof ever surfaced. Of course, there was still some existing proof of the serum. Steve Rogers was still alive and his blood would contain traces of the chemical.

"Awful quiet all of a sudden, buddy," Tony noticed. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh nothing much," Banner scrunched his brow. "Hey, do you have any of your father's work, the stuff he did with the Strategic Science Reserve and SHIELD that maybe Fury's people don't have? Like, anything they didn't keep or anything that he left with his personal stuff?"

Tony lifted his head off the bed and narrowed his gaze. He had a footlocker full of stuff specifically identified has his work while with SHIELD. Fury had turned that over to Tony years earlier. As for what he left behind that Tony kept… There were plenty of things, many of which Tony had never looked at too carefully if it didn't instantly jump out at him as important. Thinking of his parents wasn't something he did often and delving into that past was something he specifically avoided.

"I have some stuff," he answered slowly. "What are you looking for specifically?"

Tony wasn't opposed to Banner looking into his father's archives, particularly if it might help save his life, but he figured it was a one in a million shot that the guy could save his son's life twice from the grave. _Then again_, he mused, _if anyone could pull off a crazy stunt like that it would be Dad_.

"A formula," Banner admitted. "It might not even exist, but I saw some of your father's research while I was looking into how to recreate the super soldier formula and…"

"No," Tony shook his head. "The Russians messed with that, and we got the Terminator's grunge band cousin out of it. No."

Banner explained that he was not looking to turn Tony into an enhanced human but rather trick his cells into ceasing their death spirals. Currently, his cells were shredding themselves from the inside. The nuclei were imploding causing catastrophic cellular failure. The easiest to identify areas were vascular tissue, the source of his bleeding episodes.

"The mini seizures that seem to precipitate your bleeding episodes and that irregular heartbeat you've picked up concern me the most," Banner said. "If I can find the right chemical combination to halt your DNA from sending terminate signals to your cells, we can stop all of this. To do that, I need something to reformat your atomic programming."

"Find something else because that formula is gone and even if I wasn't, I'm not taking it," Tony objected. "Bruce, you're thinking too micro going after the DNA. You've gotta think big picture. Figure out what the brain and the heart have in common that none of my other issues do. That's where you'll find the key."

The answer, when it came to Banner, hit like a bolt of lightning, which was appropriate. It also struck him how tired he must be that the obvious solution hadn't occurred to him earlier. He smacked his forehead and groaned then looked at the scar in Tony's chest, the one covering the titanium plate affixed to his ribs to reinforce his sternum where the socket walls used to sit to hold his arc reactor.

"You're looking at my chest," Tony observed warily. "I'm not opposed to hooking something up to my nipples, but I gotta be entertained first."

"Electricity," Banner said.

"I changed my mind," Tony said. "No nipples. "

"Would you be serious?" Banner scoffed. "That's what the heart and brain have in common: They both use electricity in order to function. The whole body does actually, but the heart and the brain need the most."

"You want me to put an arc reactor on again?" Tony asked skeptically. "Pepper's not going to like that. I mean, given the choice of dead me or running-on-batteries me, I'm guessing she'll choose the latter, but she won't like it. I'm not eager to do anything that's going to stress her out right now."

Banner shook his head and said he didn't need to increase the electrical charge in Tony's body. He needed to control it, to recalibrate it. He just didn't know how, but until he figured out how he could (in theory) find a way to stabilize the charge or at least slow down the waves that were triggering the cellular damage.

"What's the catch?" Tony wondered. "If it was as easy as simply neutralizing an electric pulse, you wouldn't look so worried."

"Well, the catch is that I have to find the right catalyst to cause the reaction in your body without entirely cutting off the electric pulse your body needs to stay alive," Banner replied.

"So we're not trying a redo of Flatliners," Tony guessed.

"No, we can't do anything mechanical to change your internal electrical charge," Banner said. "Which leaves us with needing to use a chemical."

"Ah," Tony quipped, "the '_all you need is drugs_' solution. Someone should write a song about that."

**oOoOo**

**Grand Central Station**

**New York City**

Hill got off the train at with the rest of the commuters and returning holiday travelers. She made her way off the tracks and into the main part of the station. She was crossing toward the long line near a deli when an elderly gentleman fell into step beside her. She didn't pay him much attention until he spoke.

"That was an interesting ride," Cap said to her. "Apparently, I was right when I guessed you didn't recognize me."

The face did not register with her at first, but Hill knew the voice. Her face turned pale as she looked around to see who might be near them.

"Captain Rogers," she said in a hushed voice. "No, I didn't see you."

"Good," he nodded, "because it would have been rude for you to see me but not to say hello. I've come to expect manners from you, Hill. Then again, nothing is entirely what it seems lately. For example, I could have sworn I saw you on the train talking to a gentleman who looked very familiar."

Hill looked around and saw that her traveling companion was nowhere in sight. If he was smart, and he was, he had observed her being waylaid. He would have instantly diverted and changed his plans. Hill sighed and looked into the wrinkled blue eyes that she knew she could trust and who wouldn't believe any lie she told him.

"I guess we'd better talk," she said.

**oOoOo**

**Camp Delta Infirmary**

Banner hunched over his computer then rolled in his chair back to the microscope to double check the findings with his own eyes. Between his own system, FRIDAY, and his own observations, he was narrowing in on what he needed to do. His patient lay a few feet from him still receiving the blood transfusion to help stave off the anemia plaguing him.

"Hey Bruce," Tony called, "in theory, this is only happening to me, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Rhodes and Wilson are the ones who had first contact with you, and neither of them is experiencing any effects from whatever it was that brought you here. It's looking like when you crossed over, your quarks were affected and reprogrammed your DNA. It's like a computer virus in your DNA which is telling the nuclei of your cells to expire and has the cascading effect of breaking down your tissues."

"Right, but do you think this would have any effect on someone who shares my DNA?"

"You mean Morgan?" Banner questioned. "No, Tony. She's fine. She's from this reality. Half of her DNA matches yours, but your base isotopes would be different since you apparently came through with a different electromagnetic signature. On the isotopic level, your DNA strands are different. You're still genetically her father. It's just an energy signature difference. Your problem now can't hurt her."

Tony nodded but Banner's answer was not reassuring. He'd actually not been worried for Morgan.

Accepting he wasn't the Tony from this world was hard. It felt like he'd lost something… or stolen it, but after having lived with her and Pepper, he couldn't fathom not being with them. He was dreading telling Pepper that she was wrong about him, but there was something that worried him more.

"What about someone who wasn't here before?" Tony continued. "What would happen to someone directly, biologically related to me—this me—who is now here but wasn't before I returned? Would that person have what's plaguing me?"

"I don't understand," Banner said as he pulled off his glasses and stared at him. "Who other than you wasn't here before?"

Tony sighed and grimaced.

"Pepper's gonna kill me before this thing does," he said. "Do me a favor, just pretend whenever you see her that you don't know this. Pepper's pregnant."

"Huh," Banner grunted as his jaw hung down.

"Huh?" Tony repeated. "That's not reassuring."

"Sorry," he shook his head. "It's just that… Well, the baby she's carrying has your DNA. Half is hers, but the other half is yours so theoretically this could be a problem. What you've got, what's happening to you, could theoretically have been passed on. In fact, I'm betting it's highly likely it did because your DNA is compromised. Man, I'm sorry."

Tony growled. He didn't want to hear sorry. He wanted an answer. He wanted a solution. They needed to fix the problem before something happened to the baby, or worse to Pepper and the baby. At this point, Banner had determined that the degradation of the cells happened at an unpredictable rate. It was unclear why it seemed to go in spurts rather than behave as a constant pattern. The problem with a developing fetus was that it needed to develop at a consistent rate in order to be born alive and be viable. There wasn't room for degradation before the issue became critical.

"Tony, I would love to give you an answer you want to hear," Banner apologized. "But I can't. I don't even know where to begin to look for an answer beyond slowing this thing down temporarily."

"Hey, I'm your test subject," Tony insisted. "We're on the clock here, Bruce. Get cracking."

"I've always thought you were a little crazy, but now I'm wondering if you're a little nuts," he objected. "I'm not experimenting on you!"

"I give you permission," Tony invited.

"Have you forgotten why I am the way I am?!" Banner asked pointedly.

"Uptight, skittish, and infuriatingly neutral?" Tony shrugged. "I always figured it had something to do with your mother."

Banner buried is face in his hands as he felt the more primal side of Hulk nudge him as an inquiry if he was needed. The doctor sighed and relaxed letting his alter ego know the rage monster part was not needed to drive the bus.

"I was talking about the green side of my partnership over here," Banner groaned. "I got Hulk because of experimenting."

"Oh, that," Tony remarked. "I think we know worst case scenario here is that whatever we do kills me."

"You say that like it's not a problem," he charged.

"Right now, for me, it's not," Tony shook his head. "If you can't figure this out, I'm as good as dead. I got lucky and ended up with this whole second chance, take two, bonus scene. Call it what you like, but I'm on borrowed time. I've been savoring every second of it, but I'm sure as hell not going to waste what's left playing it safe, idly hoping for the best where Pepper and the baby are concerned. There's a timeclock counting down in my DNA. It's going to kill me if we don't figure it out. I don't like it, but the fact that it might also kill my child (and possibly take Pepper too since they're kind of the same person at the moment) is unacceptable. I won't be what kills them, and I can't leave Morgan without even one parent."

Banner considered suggesting the easy solution was for Pepper to terminate the pregnancy, but he didn't want to utter those words. Tony and Pepper left the world behind when he first came back from Titan. They found peace with each other and the fate of the world by having a family. By all estimations, it was the happiest time in their lives. Family was something they valued and that gave them solace in the hard times. There was no way they would take steps to remove the embryo like it was malware infecting a computer system. Then again with the baby's DNA being compromised, there was a good chance that the child would not make it to term. Tony stared at Banner intently and seemed to read those thoughts.

"We've got more than 400 IQ points between us," Tony pleaded. "We gotta figure this out. The only option on the table is to fix this in any way possible. I should have never met Pepper here. I should've told Rhodey to send me to another planet or transfer me to a safe house in South Sudan or Detroit. Some place no one ever goes except to die."

"Well, I'm pretty sure people live in both places willingly," Banner added.

"No one I care to know or that doesn't need a lot more therapy than even me and you," Tony scoffed.

"Hey, I am doing fine," Banner insisted.

"Denial is smooth when it ages just right," Tony nodded. "What I'm saying is I'm not going to just lay down and die. I fought my way out of a damn cave when I had a hole in my chest and nothing but scrap metal for weapons. So you fused yourself with Jolly Green because he knows about fighting to win. So, you need to get this into your head. This is going to be hard. You might not like what we have to do to fix it, but you've got to be all in on this, buddy. We do whatever it takes. I've got too much to live for now. I've loved Pepper for a lot more years than I've been married to her, and I'm not ready to have that end. I've only known Morgan a short time, but I can't figure out how I ever managed to live without her. That scares the hell out of me, but I adore ever damn second of it. This morning, she looked at me and said out of the blue that we should be butterflies someday. I have no idea what that means, but I think she's right and it's the best damn thing I've ever heard. So fix me. I gotta do that with her."

Banner looked at him with renewed confidence. He felt his spine stiffen and knew he could push through this no matter what it took. He'd never seen Tony in his role as a father. He'd been secluded and sequestered from the team for the first four years of Morgan's life, but his devotion to her was as strong as any of his amazing suits of armor and possibly more resilient.

"Okay," Banner relented. "I'm in, but you gotta promise me we do this the smart way—the scientific way. Don't do anything rash."

"Me?" Tony scoffed. "That would be so out of character."

"I'm serious," Banner pleaded. "Let me work on this."

"Agreed," Tony nodded. "We'll work on this."

"No," Banner disagreed. "You're too close to it. I'm the doctor. You just be the patient. I need a _patient_ patient."

"Your vinyl skipped groove there."

"I mean it," Banner warned. "We do this my way. My speed. I'm in charge."

"But I'm motivated," Tony offered.

"Which makes you dangerous," Banner said. "I can't concentrate if I think you're going to get some preliminary results and try something without thinking it through because you're desperate. I'm calling in other help. The folks in Wakanda may have some insight for us. I'm also talking to Helen Cho."

Tony nodded. He was in agreement with bringing in smart people. Smart women were even better in his book. Privately, unbeknownst to Tony, Banner had other ideas as well but wasn't ready to disclose them. Those would involve talking to off-world allies and following up on his original idea involving the super soldier serum. He would keep that inquiry to himself. After all, the last thing Banner needed was a running verbal battle with his patient on what as a viable solution when they were racing a clock.

"This is going to need some out of the box thinking," Banner said cryptically.

"You think?" Tony remarked. "It's not even a question of medical science. It's quantum physics, which is officially more of an art than a science at this point. I feel betrayed by that."

Banner shook his head and remarked that only Tony would relegate quantum physics to a humanities study by booting it out of the science realm just because it seemed 60 percent of what they knew about it was apparently debunked.

"Art, maybe," Banner said. "Just remember that they can coexist. MC Escher is both math and art."

"It sounds like you want to call a dead artist for advice," Tony rumbled. "I gotta say, being the only dead guy in the room, I thought I was special. Now? Not so much. Escher's been dead since I was two, but I've only recently been resurrected so I feel a lot less impressive now. Thanks, Bruce."

"And to think," Banner shook his head as he pulled the empty IV needle and tube from Tony's arm, "just the other day, I was thinking how much I missed you being a jackass."

**oOoOo**


	16. Chapter 16

**oOoOo**

Cap sat in his kitchen looking out the window onto the snowy parking lot. The holiday with his family was over too quickly, but they needed to return to work and he needed to… do something. There was one drawback to his decision to go back in time and have the life he always wanted. Tony had told him numerous times to get a life, and Cap finally had. What Tony never told him was what to do once the life Cap chose to get was over. He figured that was because Tony seemed to live most of his days like they might be his last yet never seemed to believe they would be over. They were stridently different men with different approaches and opinions, but if there was one thing Tony Stark had been better at than Steve Rogers it was ringing every second out of every day. Though he was still young in the grand scheme when he died, Tony had already lived three lifetimes when he perished.

Cap was now in his last years, more than 100 of them in the rearview mirror. His wife was gone. His children were grown. His grandchildren were grown even. His oldest grandson got engaged over the holiday and offered the news that the wedding would be soon as there was also a great-grandchild on the way. In Cap's younger days, that would have been scandalous, but he couldn't find a reason to think the news was anything other than wonderful.

Still, despite the heartwarming holiday with his family and the knowledge that there would be more family to celebrate in the coming year, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. His other family, the Avengers, was struggling. Sam was taxed to his limit with assignments and worries. Rhodes was doing what he could to help, but there was something on his mind that weighed heavily on him whenever he and Cap spoke. Banner was so tied up in his day-to-day tasks that he never even returned Cap's phone call at Christmas. The scientist sent a text message the day after the holiday promising to be in touch when he found a moment. Barton had sent a Christmas card showing his family wearing Santa hats; that felt good to receive, but the haunted look from the previous five years and the loss of Natasha still shone darkly in Barton's eyes. Wanda was off the radar entirely. There was also no word from the women of the Stark family.

That concerned Cap the most. The first holiday without a loved one was difficult. Cap knew that first-hand from multiple experiences. Peggy was not his first loss by any stretch, and he'd even known when she would die. Not that it made losing her any easier. That Christmas, he ached for what Pepper and Morgan were going through.

The only thing that could push his worry for them out of his mind was what he saw on the train when he returned from his holiday and what he was told afterward.

Hill was playing a cagey game, and it did not sit well with him. Deception of any kind, for any reason, never did. He'd been guilty of it in his life. He lived with Peggy under a pseudonym for 50 years and let all the bad things he knew would happen occur because that's what he was supposed to do. He'd kept a horrific secret from Tony and been responsible for some of the fallout from it. Both times, Cap believed he was doing the right thing—and maybe he was—but there was never anything truly righteous in the aftermath of deception. He knew that after a lifetime of reflection. So what Hill told him was keeping him awake at night, and just that morning he'd come to a conclusion about it.

He needed to speak to Nick Fury.

**oOoOo**

Banner saw the arriving visitor as Tony rested on the hospital bed with his eyes closed while contemplating something that kept his jaw tight. The doctor cleared his throat in warning to the patient to no avail as Pepper entered escorted by Rhodes. Her arms were folded tightly and her expression was not far different from what Banner recalled of the look on her face as they left the battlefield bearing away Tony's body. Seeing that horrified and defeated look in her eyes pained Banner. He cleared his throat again, louder, to get Tony's attention. The patient eventually turned his head to see Pepper quickly take in the monitors hooked up to him.

"Is someone going to explain this?" she asked.

"Thanks, Rhodey," Tony grumbled as he shot her companion glare. "You're a real pal."

"Shut up," Rhodes replied. "You should have told her about this yourself but didn't."

"I was going to," Tony said then turned a guilty gaze on her. "I was. Later."

She looked away and rested her hollow gaze on Banner, who he sat behind the computer rechecking his results before sending the command to synthesize the solution he'd settled upon for the treatment.

"What exactly are you doing to him?" Pepper asked.

"Bruce wanted to play doctor," Tony answered with an impish grin. "It's the holidays, and I get so pliable when he bats his eyelashes at me."

"Not helping," Rhodes turned his gaze away from Tony and looked at Banner. "We're just going to talk to the real adult in the room. Thanks."

"I don't want to get in the middle of anything here," Banner began as he shot a questioning look at the patient. "I feel pretty awkward about this."

"That's probably because you're a huge green guy wearing a pink shirt," Tony muttered. "It's like having a conversation with gargantuan watermelon. Points for the bold fashion choice, buddy."

Pepper kept her face unsmiling and her worried eyes on the doctor, who bowed his head and sighed. Tony might not find it a problem to receive the Carrie death stare from a woman, but Banner was not used to it.

"What exactly are you doing to him?" Pepper repeated. "Start talking. Now."

Banner looked at Tony, who nodded then dropped his head back to the raised mattress and sighed in defeat.

"At the moment, I'm just monitoring him," Banner replied. "Earlier, he got a blood transfusion to help with some blood pressure and anemia symptoms. Those were not urgent intervention; they were strictly precautions based on what I was seeing in the tests."

He then laid out the tests he had performed and what the results were telling him. Pepper's expression did not soften as she listened, but mid-way through the explanation she blindly reached her hand toward the bed and clasped Tony's. Whether it was to give support, receive support, or offer an apology, Banner did not know. He figured after everything they'd been through it was likely a combination of the three. As he finished detailing his work and findings, she nodded and turned her eyes to the patient.

"Where's Morgan?" Tony asked instantly.

"Happy is watching her at home," she answered.

Her gaze was soft even if the line at her mouth was intense and flat. She was mad, but she was even more worried. Pepper was always solid in a crisis so Tony doubted she wasn't processing what Banner just told her.

"Did you catch the part where Bruce explained that reality jumping is bad for my health?" Tony asked and received a nod. He swallowed as he waited for a reaction from her regarding the ramifications of that finding but received none. "So, you understand what that means, right?"

"Yes," she answered. "It still means Bruce is wrong about his theory for why you're not healthy. You're not a replacement or from somewhere else, Tony. You're ours… mine. That is not in question; how to cure you is."

He sighed and decided to leave her to the delusion. He was honestly grateful for it. He'd reached the conclusion that he didn't care where he was from any longer. He just knew he wanted to stay with her and Morgan and whoever else (with a lot of luck) would be joining them in the summer.

"Does Morgan know what's going on?" he asked.

"Not precisely," Pepper replied. "I told her you were seeing the doctor for your cold. She's making you a card to give to you when you get home." She looked over her shoulder at Banner. "Is he coming home tonight?"

"I think so," he nodded. "I just wouldn't count on him making it back until this evening. I've got a call to make before we can move forward; the result of that will determine how soon he can leave."

She nodded and returned her gaze to the bed. She brushed her hand through Tony's hair and asked how he was feeling. Her watery gaze and overly controlled voice told him that a quick quip would not be appreciated.

"I feel fine," he shrugged. "Maybe a little tired. You're pissed at me."

"You've earned it," she replied.

While the two of them quietly discussed what was happening, Banner stepped into the hallway with Rhodes and explained what had to happen next and who was needed for it. Rhodes accessed his phone and made a call that ended abruptly as soon as he asked for permission to request additional/outside expertise. He turned a worried gaze at Banner.

"Fury wants to see you," he reported.

**oOoOo**

Banner stepped into Fury's darkened office to find the man hunched over his desk. A computer monitor reflected in his dark eye, but Banner could not shake the feeling that the patched one was glared at him just as hard.

"We've got one doctor in the wind who didn't do a damn thing when he was here, but you want to bring in another?" Fury growled as Banner walked toward the desk. "Doctor, I used to think of you as a smart man."

"The alternative to bringing in another doctor is letting me take Tony to a hospital so they can do the procedure there," Banner offered. "You choose."

"Neither," Fury said. "Option 3."

"What's option 3?"

"You do it," Fury replied.

"No," Banner shook his head. "Look, I'm a researcher, not an actual M.D. I studied medicine. I've done some clinical work, but this is not my specialty. I can analyze blood. I can take an x-ray. I can't operate."

Fury gazed back at him with an impassive face. Here was no movement in his expression.

"This is a serious procedure," Banner continued. "It's inserting a central line catheter into the jugular vein. This isn't for a novice."

Fury's face remained flat as he folded his hands in front of him.

"I won't do it," Banner said.

"Fine, then you tell me," Fury answered, "what happens if Stark doesn't get the procedure?"

"He dies in the next few weeks," Banner shook his head. "Of course, if I do the procedure and do it wrong, he probably dies today."

"Pretty simple choices where I'm sitting," Fury said. "Do nothing and that's the end. Do something and maybe he's got a fighting chance."

"Or do something wrong and he dies because I perforated his jugular," Banner fumed. "I'm not trained for this."

"You knowledge and hands you trust?" Fury asked and received a nod.

"Yeah, but don't tell me to just watch a YouTube video on how to insert a guidewire and 25 gauge needled," he shook his head. "That would be taking a stupid chance with his life. I won't be a part of that."

Fury sighed and explained there were reasons other medical personnel couldn't be brought in, but they all amounted to the same thing: secrecy. The same held true for sending Tony to a hospital for the procedure. They might be able to pay for silence of one or two people, but the risk of being seen, being caught on a camera, was too great. Fury seemed to think that Tony's health issue of the moment was not the biggest danger facing him.

"What does that mean?" Banner asked.

"That there is more going on here than you realize," Fury replied. "You want an actual physician to help you, call Stephen Strange. He used to get lots of praise for cutting people open for a living. He's also arguably on our side and doesn't mind doing house calls since his commute is quick."

**oOoOo**

Banner explained the plan as Pepper sat beside Tony on the bed listening intently. The results of his earlier testing for a neutralizing agent—once Banner made the electromagnetic connection with the symptoms—were encouraging. The treatment was unorthodox, but he felt confident it would work (at least for the short term) and buy him more time to work on a permanent solution.

"The serological reactions are stable, and the electromagnetic feedback has been nominal," Banner said.

"What does any of that mean?" Pepper asked.

"That I'm not dying from this," Tony offered though his eyes were closed.

"Uh, not exactly," Banner hemmed resulting in a growl of disagreement from the patient.

"Hey, we're all dying," Tony argued, cracking open his eyes slightly. "Just at different molecular rates. That's an answer. It's factual. It's truthful. It's actually…."

"Total crap and a smokescreen," Pepper huffed testily but kept her hold on his hand gentle despite her anger.

"I can't determine with certainty what's causing all the symptoms, but slowing them down will open up options for us," Banner said then held up an IV bag of clear liquid.

"What is that?" Pepper asked.

"A solution of molecularized dose of dysprosium," he answered

Tony quickly guffawed.

"That's funny?" Pepper asked. "Why is that funny?"

"Dysprosium is a metal," Tony smirked and nodded at Banner. "Nice. No more suit. We're doing Iron Man from the inside now. Slick, Bruce."

He rested his head back on the bed and closed his eyes again. Pepper's expression looked slightly less worried by Tony's mirth at the proposed medicine. She felt a pang of confidence if he found the science solid even if she didn't yet understand it. In fact, the feeling felt oddly familiar. After a moment, she knew why. It reminded her of the time when he asked her to help him replace his arc reactor not long after returned from captivity in Afghanistan. He'd nearly gone into cardiac arrest in front of her, leaving her a quivering yet nervously laughing mess at the time. He'd been right about surviving that. Seeing his relaxed approach to this was somewhat reassuring despite the fear she felt leaching from her bones.

"Bruce, can you explain what he means?" she asked.

"Dysprosium is an inert metal," he elaborated. "It's properties, under laboratory conditions, show halting of cellular degradation in Tony's cells."

"Which means what?" she persisted.

"That's the part you didn't want to hear and called a smokescreen a minute ago when I tried to explain it," Tony offered.

"Stop talking," Pepper scolded him in a weary way. "Bruce?"

Banner explained that his treatment was not a cure for the ailment but would address the most serious of the symptoms Tony was experiencing: irregular heartbeats, seizure-type activity in the brain, and bleeding episodes. He likened it to the treatment Tony received when he was suffering from palladium poisoning.

"I read in your files about how Natasha treated you with the lithium dioxide for your palladium poisoning years ago," Banner said and Tony flinched at the mention of it. "It was actually her notes about the injection that gave me this idea."

Pepper turned her eyes from Banner to Tony as she blinked and her voice took on a different tone, that of someone little more pissed than worried.

"Natasha?" she repeated. "She was treating you back t hen? You told me after she quit at Stark that she was just shadowing you for SHIELD. Now, I find out she was injecting you."

"It's not like it was the other way around," Tony quipped then added quickly. "Sorry, Bruce. No offense."

Pepper was not dissuaded.

"She was treating you?"

"If by treating you mean she dosed me with a chemical composition I didn't agree to take, then yes, she was treating me," Tony said. "It was a fun day. I was hung over and eating a donut with Fury when she walked up and stabbed me in the neck. That's when I found out she wasn't Natalie Rushman. After I learned real name was Natasha, it made sense. Natasha spelled backwards is Ah Satan. I mentioned it to her. She pointed out that Tony backward is Y Not. We really bonded in that moment. Of course, some of that was due to both of us knowing I was dying." He lifted his eyes to see Pepper's glare at learning a few details he'd neglected for a decade to mention. "Not that it matters at this moment, but your expression right now and her bedside manner are eerily familiar."

"Bedside manner?" Pepper huffed.

"Figure of speech," Tony mumbled.

As he closed his eyes again, he rested his head on her shoulder. Pepper sighed with resignation then reached her arm around his shoulders. There were instances in the past when Tony willfully kept information from her to avoid discussion, conflict, and disappointment. There were other moments when he did so simply because he found them irrelevant. Anything surrounding him nearly dying of palladium poisoning likely fell into that second category because in his mind it was a solved issue that never needed revisiting.

Banner waited a moment to determine if all was well so that he could proceed. When there was no squabbling and Pepper's expression remained more concerned than angry he continued. He stated his intention to insert a central line into Tony's veins to administer the dysprosium daily. Predictably, Tony objected—not because he didn't think the procedure would work but because he felt it was taking away his control.

"Tony, you don't want the responsibility of having to give yourself multiple injections each day," Banner assured him. "This is more efficient, and it's safer. There's no worry about improper administration that might cause an air embolism. It also avoids you inadvertently missing a dose."

"That's your way of saying he'd skip one," Pepper guessed. "What are the side effects or possible complications?"

"Nearly none," Banner offered before Tony could start to argue about whether he would miss or skip taking his medicine. The truculent expression on his face indicated he felt like he was being treated like a child. "The central line will be threaded through his right interior jugular. It poses the least amount of problems. Morgan won't have to see you jabbing yourself with a needle. You also won't have any of those lying around where she might get hold of one. The biggest drawback is, obviously, he can't put on an arc reactor while the line is in, but..."

"He has no need to do that ever again," Pepper said firmly.

Tony smirked.

"The boss has spoken," he said.

Banner finished off his explanation with the daily procedure they would follow. Simply hook up the IV bag to the central line and let gravity do its work. Within two hours each day, the treatment would be completed. The treatment was non-toxic so it did not pose a danger to anyone if they came into contact with it. Banner planned to rerun Tony's blood work every two weeks to check for clotting issues, iron levels, and any other changes that might be relevant.

"And now I can put juice box and pin cushion impersonator on my resume," Tony quipped and turned his eyes to Pepper. "I don't even have a resume, do I? If I did, it would make a great novel at this point, and that was true even before I arrived here."

"That's a matter of opinion," Pepper scoffed. "Are there any warning signs we should be aware of? Things I can I can look for since I know I can't trust him to tell me. What are his limitations?"

"Pepper," Tony groaned.

She shushed him instantly.

"Responsible adults are talking," she said. "Bruce, restrictions and limitations?"

He let her know that any unexplained bruises or bleeding events should receive immediate attention in the form of calling him instantly. He would then send appropriate personnel to their home to deal with the problem. He also wanted to keep an eye on body temperature as anything over 100.5 degrees was a point of concern as was any instant of unexpected loss of consciousness. He further ordered Tony to electronically send his vitals to him every 8 hours—a task FRIDAY would need to tackle. The readings needed to include blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen levels.

"The shoring up effect of the dysprosium should help noticeably reverse his fatigue within the next 24 hours," Banner said.

"So our plans for tomorrow night aren't canceled yet," Tony smirked then turned his head and playfully bit Pepper's sleeve.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore this," Pepper shook her head as she addressed Banner. "He'll stop eventually."

"Okay," Banner cleared his throat. "Well, Tony can do most normal daily activities. Just keep the port from getting wet so tape it off to shower. Don't yank it out."

"Forbidden activities?" she asked.

"No rough physical contact," Banner shook his head. "No combat type stuff. No martial arts stuff. No boxing. If Morgan likes to wrestle, that's off limits."

"I think she was asking if you mean no sex," Tony said and earned a scoff from Pepper that told him she was both angry and blushing. "Okay, fine. She's not asking. I am."

Banner felt his face get warm on Pepper's behalf, but there was logic to Tony's question.

"I said combat type activity," he reiterated. "All other normal life activities are fine. Just don't do anything that will pull out the needle."

Pepper sighed in frustration but did not scold Tony further. There really was very little that he could ever say that would truly stun her. After so many years, the shock value of his off the cuff remarks had dulled greatly.

"This would have been easier and less awkward for most of us if Bruce just knocked you out for the procedure first and then given me the run down," she said.

Banner offered a sketch nod of agreement before finishing the discussion by telling Tony he needed to take care of himself: sleep when he needed it; eat when he was hungry and force himself if necessary when he went long stretches without feeling the urge to eat. He did need to be somewhat active to avoid fluid building up in his lungs. To that end, he'd be prescribed an inhaled cortical steroid to be taken daily to keep his lungs clear.

"Turning me into the asthmatic weakling who's fragile and will break is an insult," Tony grumbled.

"Just do what I say," Banner said testily. "I went to your funeral once. I'd like to avoid doing it again. So just lay there and take your medicine, alright?"

The snarl was enough to seal Tony's lips and get a sharp look from Pepper, but she then nodded to Banner in a grateful gesture. A few moments later, he administered an IV sedative. Pepper stayed with Tony until she saw Stephen Strange arrive. A curt wave of the doctor's hand instructed her to leave the room. Banner stopped her at the door.

"I'm sorry about that last bit," he apologized.

"It's fine," she said. "Tony pushes people's buttons to see what will happen, especially when he's scared. It's a defense technique. When he went missing in Afghanistan, I half expected the kidnappers to give him back just to get away from him."

Banner gently gave her arm a comforting squeeze as he smiled.

"Yeah, but doing that kind of stuff is also kind of why we love him, right?" he said and received a hug. "I didn't say this before, but the other part of this treatment is about you. You need to make sure you take care of Morgan during this and yourself. You both being fine and healthy will take a lot of worry off his mind. Stress isn't good for either of you right now."

His nod was so caring and knowing that she scoffed and glared at the unconscious man on the table.

"He has the impulse control of a toddler when he's excited," she groaned. "Did he shout about the baby to you the second he walked in here, or did he wait five whole minutes?"

Banner smirked guiltily and shook his head.

"I promised him that I would pretend I don't know what you're talking about when you ask me that," he said, deciding to keep any concerns he or Tony might have about the baby she carried to himself for the moment.

**oOoOo**

Bowing to Fury's wishes/edicts, Dr. Stephen Strange agreed to assist by talking Banner through the procedure. When agreeing to oversee it, he asked that the patient be sedated when he arrived as it would make things go quicker. Strange insisted he was also looking into the odd reappearance of Tony Stark and didn't like being taken away from his endeavor.

"Is there any chance you can you do this?" Banner asked as Strange handed him the packet containing all the tools and apparatus necessary to insert a central line.

There were scrubbing at the sink after knocking Tony out with an intravenous drip of morphine and Demerol, the same combination oral surgeons gave patients when surgically removing wisdom teeth.

"Not anymore," Strange said, acutely aware of the trembles in his hands. "I can talk anyone with two working hands and eyes through it though. This is simple. Just don't rupture his artery or pump an air bubble into the vein and he should be fine. Your tests show this solution stops the degradation?"

"Not stops so much as slows it," Banner corrected as he dried his hands and began slipping into his gloves. "If you're not doing the procedure, why are you scrubbing?"

"Old habit," Strange sighed then skipped the gloving part as he slipped on his mask then helped Banner do the same as he peeked at the images on the computer screen near the table where they would operate. "The ultrasound pictures show some scar tissue you'll want to avoid in the infrahyoid muscles. All shrapnel was removed in 2013, yes?"

"That's what it looked like from the x-rays," Banner said as his pulse quickened. "But there should haven't been any in his neck. He was hit in the chest, I thought."

"It traveled," Strange said sounding unconcerned as he peered more closely at the monitor then at the patient in front of him. "He looks bored."

"Better than dead," Banner mumbled. "Have you figured out anything about this whole mess?"

"Nothing other than everything we think we know probably isn't true," Strange shrugged. "You're looking into other realities. I'm checking other dimensions. One of the two of us will hit on the answer eventually. Just between us, I'm hoping it's you."

"Why?"

"Because there are a lot more questions to answer if I'm right," Strange advised.

**oOoOo**

Pepper paced in the hall outside the makeshift surgery. She'd read up on Stephen Strange when Banner gave her a few minutes notice for what was about to happen. She didn't like not getting a second opinion or having any time to discuss the ramifications of the procedure. What she did like was Strange's resume prior to dropping off the face of the Earth to run around playing cloaked superhero. He'd been a damn fine surgeon, best in his field in the world. That Tony called him Dr. Strange Cloak was predictable and not a great worry.

What concerned her most was who would be wielding the needle for the procedure: Rhodes. He was the only one available with the proper clearance to know about Tony who didn't have dexterity issues. Strange's hands still shook too much. Banner's strength made the delicate touch needed for the procedure impossible. Rhodes just needed to apply pressure to the needle in the spot Strange indicated. While far from ideal, Pepper normally would trust Rhodes implicitly when it came to Tony's safety, but things were far from normal lately—something she remarked about when one of the guards from the house (Ollie Reynolds) stood with her outside the infirmary.

"He's gonna be fine," Reynolds assured her as he waited with her. "They're the Avengers, Ma'am. They'll see to it that Tony gets better."

"If that's what all of them actually want?" she muttered with an edge to her voice. "I know that sounded harsh, but it's a valid observation. Not everyone in there is his biggest fan lately."

Reynolds said nothing but knew she mostly meant Rhodes with her criticism. It was impossible to be so close to Tony's life (particularly after watching him day and night at Camp Delta) and not know Rhodes was at odds with himself over the whole situation. It was evident wanted his friend back, but he also knew his friend had died.

"I think Colonel Rhodes wants what's best for everyone," Reynolds said. "I think he's just a little confused on what that is precisely."

She nodded as her stomach flipped with anxiety. She didn't care what Banner said, what Rhodes believed, or what Tony feared. She knew in her heart, her soul, and in the marrow of her bones that the man on that table was her husband, her lover, her dearest friend, and the precise man who had been with her for years. She would know if he was someone else from somewhere else. Nothing she heard from others would change that belief.

"What's best is for Bruce to cure Tony," she said quickly. "He has to. Morgan and I can't lose him again."

**oOoOo**

Morgan held a tablet in her tiny hands and was pushing buttons on the screen that made the virtual Christmas tree begin to spin, then change color, and start to blink. Happy stood by and nodded as he offered his compliments.

"That's impressive, kido," he said. "Most Christmas trees don't do the whirling dervish thing. Did you ask your dad to make it do that?"

"I wanted it to move," she nodded. "Daddy said we could that. When is Daddy coming home?"

Happy sighed and patted her head as he shut off the swirling light show. She'd been keeping an eye on the windows, looking for headlights to signal her parents were returning ever since they didn't arrive for dinner. Happy had done his best to keep the kid occupied. Pepper had called to say they would be home within an hour and the hour was nearly up. Happy trusted that if something had changed she would have called. He also hoped that Tony was feeling well enough to convince the kid all was well. She'd mentioned several times as she ate the cheeseburger Happy made her for dinner how sad it was when her daddy didn't home for a long time.

Before he could get misty again thinking about that, lights appeared through the darkness and reflected off the snowbanks. Morgan was up with her face pressed into the window as Rhodes assisted Pepper in walking Tony to the house. He was moving slow and only getting some support from Rhodes as he walked. Pepper entered first and grabbed hold of Morgan, who appeared ready to tackle Tony at the knees.

"Be gentle," Pepper told her. "Daddy got a shot from the doctor so he can't pick you up."

Morgan nodded as relief washed over her face at seeing both of her parents home again. Pepper whispered briefly to Tony, who informed the child he was tired and was going to bed early but would see her in the morning. Rhodes helped him toward the stairs. A nod from Pepper sent Happy along with them to assist.

Once in the bedroom, Rhodes promised Tony he would check in the next day then he left. Happy stood beside the bed, unsure what he should do but not feeling like he should simply leave. Tony kept his eyes closed and placed his fingers gingerly on the tube now inserted into his chest. The spot was both numb and throbbing at the same time. It reminded him a bit of waking up in Afghanistan.

_At least it's not cold in here and the bed is comfortable_, Tony told himself.

"You look like hell," Happy offered.

"I never asked this before," Tony groaned. "Is your middle name sunshine?"

"I'm just saying, if you're gonna lie about being sick, then I guess it's a good thing you didn't tell Peter that you're back," he scolded. "You've got everyone here worried about you. I think that's enough."

Tony cracked open one eye to glare but ceased the words he wanted to snap back at the man. Happy was pale and looked a bit shaken. Something told Tony that was not from playing impromptu babysitter for the afternoon.

"I'm just saying it's probably best you don't let him or anyone else know about you until you're better," Happy continued his passive aggressive lecture.

"Yes, let's put everyone else's needs first," Tony huffed. "That'll teach me a lesson."

"That's not what I meant."

Tony sighed and nodded. Happy was his rock, the one he could always depend upon. Tony had faced the possibility of losing him once before and the pain and fear of it scared him so much he challenged a terrorist to take a swing at him, which ranked among the top ten stupidest things he'd ever done. In a lifetime of bad decisions, that was saying something.

"I'm tired and pissed at the world, not you," Tony relented. "Look out Pepper for me, would you?"

"I always do," Happy agreed. "Do you mean just now or is there… are you going to… You're getting better from this, right?"

Tony heard the hitch in the man's voice and caught the worried look in his eyes.

"That's the plan," he answered and sighed deeply as his head spun with too many memories of walking his life (and that of those he loved) to the brink. He never meant to do it, but never seemed to find a way to avoid it. "Where the hell did it all go wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Happy asked. "You got sick. I'm not going to say I told you so, but I did. Playing around with all that superhero stuff… It nearly killed you, Tony. For a while, I thought it did."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "_Nearly_ killed me." He paused and took a harsh look back at his life. The answer he sought was buried in Happy's criticism. "It was Afghanistan."

"What was?"

"Where it all went south," Tony remarked. "I should have never gone to Afghanistan. Obie wanted the company and the spotlight. He wanted to be in front of it all. I could have walked away, let him have it all and done something on my own."

"Your father founded that company and your stuff took it from a million dollars to a billion," Happy reminded him. "It was yours do what you wanted with it. Besides, if you never got kidnapped, you'd never have grown up. I know that sounds harsh, but you needed a wakeup call. I wish it hadn't been that one, but if not for that, you'd never have gotten Pepper."

Tony scoffed. He knew there was likely a lot of truth in that, but he refused to believe (regardless of reality) that it wasn't fate that he ended up with Pepper. They were too perfectly matched. Too uniquely suited for each other. Too much the other half of one another. Scientifically, he couldn't believe in destiny—a preordained future—but where Pepper and he were concerned, he'd fight anyone who argued against it.

"I'd have gotten her anyway," Tony yawned. "Practically had her already. Her freakish devotion to her job wasn't because she loved the work."

"Is that so?" he remarked flatly expression all his doubt. "Had her in the palm of your hand back then?"

"Yes," Tony replied in a weary yet smug way. "It's all about the confidence. What errand did I send you on the day I told the world I was Iron Man?"

It took him a second to remember, but he recalled hopping on the Stark Industries jet to wing it to the east coast. Happy's job that day was to retrieve some jewelry Tony commissioned from Harry Winston: a large, sparkling expensive rock set in platinum band. Happy then hung onto the piece for another 10 years before the boss convinced the woman he adored to accept it.

"You do realize that I had her ring longer than she's had it so far, right?" Happy chuckled.

"You and I will always have something special, but it was never that kind of love, Haps," Tony muttered.

"I thought you were nuts," he recalled. "I mean, I liked the idea of the two of you, but I thought you were crazy. I worried for a long time she'd never say yes."

"That just because Pepper's likes the word no."

She entered the room at that moment after settling Morgan in her bed for the night.

"Because you give me so many reasons to say it," Pepper offered. "Happy, the guest room is yours again for the night if you don't want to head back to the city tonight."

He declined the offer and said he would head back now that he was assured Tony was okay. He mouthed words for Pepper to call him if needed. She nodded and waved silently as he departed. With a sigh, she went to the bed and crawled onto it beside Tony.

"You want to tell me now or in the morning how long you've known there was a problem?" she asked.

The question was firm without being aggressively accusing. She gently slipped her arm under his head and cradled it to her chest.

"Obviously, something hasn't been right since I got back," he hedged.

She softly stroked his hair as she sighed.

"Tony," she persisted, "how long?"

"I started to wonder a few days before Christmas," he admitted tiredly. "I was certain a day or so after that. In my defense, that's pretty good for me. I have a track record of ignoring personal problems a lot longer than a few days."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Pepper remarked. "You lied to me."

He maintained that he did not lie. He simply did not tell her he didn't feel quite right. He felt a little off and wondered, but he didn't know until he got some results from Banner.

"I'd have told you, but you told me about the baby," he said. "Then I forgot I didn't feel 100 percent."

"So it's my fault?" she asked flatly.

Tony groaned, knowing he was both trapped and in the wrong despite telling her the truth.

"I'd tell you to hit me, but Bruce said no rough stuff," he replied. "Pep, I know you're upset. You've got a right to be, but I didn't do it to deceive you. I just didn't see a need to tell you when I didn't know anything was actually wrong."

She reminded him that willful omission were lies and that she had hoped they put that kind of behavior behind them years ago. She vowed that she wouldn't put up with it again. If something was wrong, he had to tell her—no matter what.

"Agreed," he relented. "I'm not hiding anything else. You know everything that I do."

Pepper grumbled her displeasure.

"Right there," she accused. "I can tell you're hiding something."

"Let me finish," Tony growled slightly. "What I just said is all I know for certain; however, I do have some concern that there's a chance the baby could be affected as well."

Whatever anger she had with his sidestepping keeping her in the loop on his health vanished as he spoke. She inhaled sharply as he twisted despite his soreness to look at her with an earnest and worried expression.

"It's a chance only," he said squeezing her hand. "Bruce agrees there's nothing we could do yet to diagnose a problem or even treat one. Whatever it is that I have, it's lower than cellular level. It's isotope level. By virtue of me being the father, what's wrong with me may have been passed to the baby."

She placed her hand protectively over her abdomen. Tony laid his hand upon hers but his dark eyes held hers with a calmness that stopped her shaking.

"The baby isn't just me," he reminded her. "It's you, too. That's great and encouraging news for a whole lot of reasons. Right now, for all we know, being half you is precisely what is going to keep the baby protected from this."

The baby was a sign for her that her life was moving forward again and the grieve she felt following the battle and the funeral were debts she paid in advance so that life would leave her family alone for the foreseeable future. She never believed in the debt Tony thought he owed to the world for manufacturing weapons and all the harm they did, but she felt he had repaid it many times over all the same. Getting him back after losing him was the true fresh start she thought they had earned and a new baby had, in just a few short days, come to feel like confirmation of that. Now, the baby (like Tony) was in jeopardy, and her family was teetering on the precipice ready to pay a terrible price once again.

"What if it doesn't?" she asked. "I don't want to lose either of you. I can't."

He reached for her and held her as tightly as the alternating numbness from the anesthesia and pain from the procedure would allow him. Pepper rested her head in the crook of his neck and refused to let herself cry. She'd shed many tears over Tony Stark already and felt she was too mentally tired to spare anymore.

"You won't," he said without foundation for his boast. "Honey, there's no point in worrying about something we can't do anything about right now. Bruce is on this. He's got the arrogant Dr. Strange Cloak backing him up. Someone's gonna know what to do. They'll find a cure. They have to; I made up a rule that I'm not allowed to die twice so close together. It's grandstanding."

She chuckled in spite of her angst as he kissed her forehead.

"That is not funny," she said.

"Then stop encouraging me by laughing," Tony said. "Pep, you have my word. Next year at this time, you're going to be mad at me for making Morgan's teddy bears jetpacks, and you'll be warning me not to do the same for her brother's stuffed toys."

"Her brother's?" she sniffed. "You think it's a boy?"

"Sure, why not," he said. "Morgan Stark—Mark 1. Isaac Newton Stark—Mark 2."

"Stop labeling them like one of your suits."

"Engineer's prerogative," Tony asserted. "They're my creations."

"Our creations," she corrected him, "and you're not cataloging them. You're also not naming our son Isaac Newton."

"Nikola Tesla Stark?"

"Howard Anthony," she suggested.

"Veto," Tony groaned. "Happy Stark?"

That got another chuckle out of her as she sighed, feeling the warmth of his body ward off some of the chill from fear that was settling into her bones.

"We're going to have to put some work into this," Pepper sighed. "We'll need a girl's name as well, in case you're wrong like you were the last time. Natalie?"

"Natasha," he countered.

"It can go on the list," she nodded. "Tony, be honest. What chance do you have of making it through this?"

Sleep was pulling heavily upon him and his body was letting him know it was not sure what to do with the chemicals pumped into him a few hours earlier. His muscles quivered and his blood rushed. He felt both like he was standing in harsh sunshine and knee deep in icy water. A fog was settling over his brain as he pulled her into a gentle embrace and lay back on the pillows.

"Don't worry about the odds—they don't usually apply to me," he said. "It's why smart people don't bet against me."

**oOoOo**


	17. Chapter 17

**oOoOo**

_Pain is proof you're alive._

Tony had been told that somewhere long ago; he could vaguely recall hearing it in his father's voice surrounding an incident he when broke his collarbone as a child. His father hadn't said the day he got hurt—no, he'd yelled at Tony in the ER for getting his old man dragged out of work to deal with the hospital that day. His father offered the philosophy later to a reporter as part of an anecdote when some magazine did a story on the Starks. Tony didn't recall which publication it was; there were more than a few spreads done on them during his childhood. Mostly, Tony recalled that his father always said things that sounded proud when they appeared in print. The words were just never that comforting or reassuring when he said them to Tony directly. Still, the old man's words floated back to him as his eyes reluctantly unsealed themselves for a second time that morning.

The pain from the previous day's procedure of turning him into a human juice box flared. He was on the couch downstairs as the clock ticked over to 7 a.m. Pepper thought it best for him to be up and through with his day's treatment before Morgan got up for the day. So at 5 a.m. (an unconscionable hour to be awake in Tony's opinion) with Pepper observing, he hooked up his new IV port and began his second round of dysprosium treatments. After nearly two hours, the IV bag was finally empty thanks to the basics of Newtonian physics. Tony scrubbed a hand (the one attached to the arm that didn't feel like it got stabbed with a sword) over his face.

"You're too quiet," Pepper observed as she knelt on the floor beside him. "How bad is the pain?"

One thing she always found surprising about Tony was his reaction to pain. He could be a constant chatter box about everything and nothing, talking to himself, to his bots, to his computer, to whomever was nearest deemed worthy of joining his discussions, but add pain to the mix and he frequently turned mute.

"It's fine," he sighed, while still melting into the cushions. "Shouldn't Morgan be up?"

"In a minute," she said. "One stubborn Stark at a time. Now, the truth: How do you feel?"

Tired and punctured were good descriptions, but he knew she was looking for a pain level to determine a prognosis for how he would fair throughout the day. Pepper had already decided to work from home—something he told her she didn't need to do (but that he was still awfully glad she was doing). What he didn't want was her waiting on him. He honestly preferred to suffer in solitude.

"I feel like you should show up on a webcam at the office wearing an AC/DC T-shirt," Tony grinned weakly while plucking at the sleeve of the shirt (his) that she wore. "It looks good on you. You've got this whole hot CEO meets groupie vibe going. You should wear that (or less) more often."

She ignored his grin like a pro and kept her face impassive as she refused to acknowledge his mirth.

"Pain level on a scale of one to 10?" she asked.

"Five point two," he answered feeling the need to be both honest and precise. It was slightly above a five but definitely below a six. The engineer in him needed precision.

She sighed as she unhooked the IV bag and assisted him in sitting up. The pain, Banner had assured him, would fade in a few days as the area around the central line healed and his body got used to having a needle and tube embedded in it full-time. Tony was going to hold Banner to that.

"Rhodey sent me a text checking in while you were napping," Pepper said as she returned to his side.

"Please," Tony scoffed. "Morgan naps. I was sedately absorbing heavy metal."

"Whatever," she smiled. "He said Fury asked him to relay a message to you. He's sending someone to talk to you today. I think it's about not going public with you being alive."

"Why would you think that?"

"While you were under yesterday, he spoke to me and that's pretty much what he said," she explained. "I asked why. He said the reasons were need-to-know, and no one but he and a select few others did. I reminded him that it's your life, and he can't stop you from claiming it."

"I'd like to have seen that," Tony muttered.

It figured Fury wanted to keep him a secret. The man thrived on subterfuge. He'd known Tony's father, mentioned it only once while lecturing him, then never raised the subject again. Tony had a slew of questions, but Fury's general need for concealment and stealth simply never allowed another opportunity to have that discussion. Tony didn't feel he should try to finagle one. After all, regardless of Pepper's unfounded faith in who he was, Banner's discoveries pretty much established that the Howard Stark Fury knew was technically not the one who was the present-Tony's father. That revelation still caused a sinking sensation in his chest that had nothing to do with needles.

He'd given Pepper a night to think about what she'd learned the previous day. Obviously, there were a lot of details involved, but the issue of Banner's findings did merit more than her knee-jerk reaction while she was confronted with unexpected medical procedures occurring in front of her.

"Hey, come here for a second," Tony summoned her back to him.

She sat beside him and he offered her an expectant look. She wore the expression that always made him certain he simply wasn't worthy of her. It was simple and curious, a face that said she would listen to what he had to say and not make comment or judgement until he was done. It was open and accepting, and it nearly made him abandon his words.

But the truth was going to be there between them forever. Ignoring it didn't change it or make it go away.

"So I was thinking about this whole marriage deal after what Bruce basically confirmed about who I'm not," he said, amazed that not a muscle in her face moved to show she was reacting in any way to his words. "Add to that the fact that I have zero recollection of us doing getting married—which does a lot to further support Bruce's theory—and it seems to me that you've got the perfect excuse if you want it."

"Want what?" she asked plainly.

"Out—to be done with me," he said. "Pepper, you've got a TKO on the vows if you want to claim it. That whole _'til death do us part_' thing? Done. You've also now got an additional exit because I, the me sitting here right now, never actually married you. I'm not saying I'm glad about that. I'm not, but reasonably, if you wanted you could ..."

What she could reasonably do in his estimation never made it over his lips as she shook her head then pressed her lips to his. His brain parsed the possible meanings from it being a kiss goodbye to a physically friendly _thank you_ for letting her off the hook until she pulled away and shook her head.

"For a genius, you're an idiot sometimes," Pepper said. "You did marry me, Tony. I was there. So were you. Death wasn't final so stop mentioning it."

Her voice was firm on that point. He wanted to defend himself but couldn't think of a way or the words to do so. He wanted to believe as she did, that Banner was wrong but the science was not in his corner, and he was hardwired to side with science every time. As he pondered the point, she left the room. She padded up the stairs leaving him slouching into the couch cushions wondering what she was doing until she returned moments later.

"However, now that you've mention it," she said, "you are missing something that married men usually wear."

She held out a simple golden band to him. Rhodes had given her Tony's wedding ring the day of the funeral. It was not incinerated when Tony's body was cremated. One of his teammates had removed the band after he was carried from the field. Banner had it checked for radiation and though it did register some, one of the Wakanda delegation was able to decontaminate the piece. Pepper had accepted it from Rhodes then stored it in her jewelry box since then. She had considered giving it back to Tony on several occasions since his return but waited to see if he showed any interest on his own.

"It's not mine," Tony said resisting taking it from her.

"It is," she nodded then took his hand and slipped it over his finger, noting with satisfaction that it fit perfectly between the two scars on his hand that first caught her eye when she saw him at the Avengers' compound. "I gave it to you five years ago, Tony. You're not someone new. I know that as surely as I know your name, your social security number, and your birth date. You keep proving me right all the time. Do you remember what you did when you woke up the first morning after you came home?"

He looked at her with a salacious grin that made her blush.

"I mean after that," she said. "I went back to sleep, but you came down stairs."

He nodded. He'd descended to the bottom floor to see the house in daylight, hoping something would look familiar. What he found was a room on the other side of the kitchen that held an upright piano. He tapped a few keys and was pleased to hear that it was in tune. Out of tune pianos were like fingernails on a chalkboard to him. It was a sturdy instrument, not as elegant or resonant as the baby grand that sat in his Malibu mansion, but it fit the room and house with its compact simplicity. Barely had the sound of the chords left the air than there was a tiny body dressed in footie pajamas rushing toward the bench sporting an eager grin.

"Morgan and I woke you up with the piano," he recalled. "I apologized."

"And I said there was no need," Pepper gave him a watery smile. "Tony, it was a Sunday morning."

He looked back at her blankly, unsure of the significance of the day. He knew Morgan had scrambled onto the bench and looked at him expectantly so he sat down and asked her to play him something. He was impressed to learn she knew her way around the keys rather well for someone with such little hands (and legs that kept swinging so much that she nearly toppled off the bench every few bars). She asked him to teach her a new song, so he did. She was an attentive student for nearly 30 minutes, but when her interest in learning the new notes waned, inspiration struck him. Tony didn't like the song that sprang to his mind as it was entirely too repetitive, but something told him the little girl would like it. And, to play it properly, it needed two sets of hands. He wondered if she was capable of joining in. He was rewarded with her glowing smile and knowledgeable, proper accompaniment almost instantly.

"So?" he remarked. "I learned that she plays piano."

Pepper nodded and continued to smile as she tapped her phone. The TV screen over the mantel came to life and pulled a video from her storage. The clip showed Tony and Morgan sitting at the piano. Snow swirled at the windows behind them. Morgan wore a pair of bright pink, fuzzy slipper and snowflake PJ's. Both she and Tony sported Santa hats, something he knew they had not done during the recent holiday. Within seconds, the sound in the video began to reveal the very tune he'd played with the little girl at the end of the lesson that first Sunday he was at the house (and that they had then played at the end of every Sunday lesson since).

"Christmas was on a Sunday last year," Pepper explained as the video continued and Tony stared at it in amazement. "I filmed this that day. Morgan asked me to because thought it was special you were both wearing hats. 'Heart and Soul' is the song she loves the most so you two have played a version of it at the end of her lesson every single Sunday since you began teaching her. You've done it more than hundred times, Tony. The song irritates you, but she adores it. So you indulge her because you can play it together—just like you did the first Sunday after you came home. So you tell me: If you've never been here, how do your infallible scientific findings explain that?"

Tony stared at the video with no recollection of the moment it displayed. There was no déjà vu or 'ah ha' moment of revelation. His memory was blank as the playback ended. He shook his head as no answer occurred to him. Pepper chuckled warmly. Rendering him speechless was a rarity.

"That Sunday morning when you were home again," she said with a hint of tears in her eyes, "I woke up to hear that song playing in the house again. It was confirmation that everything I already believed about you was true. Bruce is a brilliant man, and I am counting on him to find a cure for you, but he's wrong about who you are. I don't know how you came back to us, and I don't know why you don't remember the last five years, but you were the one here with us, not someone else: you."

Tony mulled that pronouncement. He wanted to believe it. Pepper's observations were not empirical evidence, but they were not precisely unreliable anecdotal offerings. The gray area between irrefutable fact and intuition was a point of friction in science, yet those gut feelings based on simple observations often lead to great breakthroughs. Her supposition was interesting (comforting too if he let himself hold on to it), but the dying episode she witnessed was a major hole in her theory that he didn't think she cared to discuss so he changed the subject. Despite her smile, there were dark circles under her eyes and a wan shade to her complexion.

"How are you?" he asked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine—that's actual fine, not your kind," she assured him. "You're the one who was on an operating table yesterday."

"True but you look tired and a little green, Pep," Tony noted. "Late night?" She rolled her eyes. "Bruce rubbing off on you? Rubbing you the right way? Rubbing you in anyway?"

She valiantly fought the urge to laugh as she whispered that he was an ass, prompting a wide grin on his face.

"Tired and nauseous is part of my day now," she offered before she kissed his cheek then went toward the stairs. "Get used to it."

Tony listened as she woke Morgan, which not always a quick or easy job. He was the one who usually took care of that so that Pepper could get ready for work. He hated being relieved of that duty and made himself a vow that the next day he would be back to his duties. He wasn't going to leave Pepper taking care of a billion dollar corporation, a child, and a needle-toting guy posing as her dead husband. He stood by his observation. She looked worn out. He supposed that was to be expected, but expected and acceptable were not the same thing. He brushed his hand on the catheter resting beneath his T-shirt. Freed from being attached to the IV, Tony pulled himself off the couch. He moved to the kitchen counter and retrieved her phone.

He made a call to Happy to see if he was set with his travel plans. Finding out he had a commercial flight that evening and would hold Tony's requested meeting the following day was good news. Tony then made the man's job easy by shooting a quick video to prove Happy wasn't delusional then forwarded it to the man's phone. Happy replied that he would delete it as soon as it was played; his desire to maintain Tony's privacy and security was as strong and devoted as ever.

With Tony's insurance policy about to be put into place, he then sent Rhodes the message. Fury could kiss his ass. Unless revealing that he was alive would endanger his family in anyway, Tony was getting in front of a television camera by the end of the day.

**oOoOo**

Hill arrived at the base to find Fury standing outside the main building in the gray morning light. He looked like he hadn't slept again. That was happening a lot. Sleep-deprived Fury and well-rested was merely the pinch in his cheek. When he was rested, it didn't appear. Tired Fury was pretty much the same ornery bastard as relaxed Fury, but Hill still preferred one over the other.

"The word covert not in your vocabulary these days?" he asked as she approached.

"I made a decision," she said. "Lying was an option, but…"

"But you were suddenly incapable?" Fury guessed.

"But it would have been pointless," Hill replied. "Sir, it's Steve Rogers. He's not going to fall for the '_you didn't see who you think you saw_' argument."

"The man's more than 100 years old," Fury griped. "You tell him to get his prescription and cataracts checked then end the damn discussion."

"He doesn't wear glasses and his eyesight is fine," she reminded him. "His body aged outwardly. He's not falling apart. His mind is as sharp as ever."

"If I wanted a damn Boy Scout giving me a lecture, I'd have asked for one," he fumed.

Hill nodded and waited for either more yelling or new orders. What she got was neither. He told her to stick with her assignment and stop taking public transportation frequented by elderly superheroes. She nodded her agreement, but her own sense were piqued. Something was on Fury's mind, something sufficiently serious that he sent her on an errand to escort an operative to the base who was not supposed to be anywhere as far as the personnel at Camp Delta were concerned.

"You came in alone," Fury rumbled over his shoulder as Hill fell into step behind him. "Where is he?"

"At the safe house you arranged," she said. "I didn't think he should come here until you specifically called for him."

"At least you got that right," he nodded. "He's not to come here. I've got someone for him to talk to."

"Do I get to know who?" she asked.

Fury did not respond. He entered his office and closed the door just inches from her face.

**oOoOo**

Tony and Morgan spent the day in a lazy way. She stayed in her PJ's eating dry cereal out of the box (what Pepper didn't know couldn't get him lectured) while lounging gingerly against him as they made the couch home. They watched a French cartoon about a bunny and a cow that she liked (and that Tony silently mocked thinking it would be more interesting if they were fighting crime or were spying on the whistling farmer, who was undoubtedly in league with evil forces since his overalls and shirt looked like a henchman uniform).

Throughout the day, Morgan, a child who was always busy, was clingy as Pepper predicted she would be. She never strayed more than 10 feet from Tony or let him out of her eyesight for very long. The little girl wanted to be helpful while Tony "was still sick with a cold." She fetched the books she wanted him to read to her and the puzzle she wanted them to make. She went to the piano and played a mishmash of partial songs until the constant peaking over her shoulder to make sure he was still on the couch listening grew tiresome. After that, she made Tony two more Get Well cards—there was a lot of glitter. All that effort added up to her graciously settling down for her nap after lunch without any resistance.

Tony poked his head into Pepper's office after Morgan nodded off. Pepper was at her desk. The monitors all faced her rather than the door so as he entered, Pepper gave him a warning look that indicated she was on a video conference. Tony bit down on his tongue when he heard one of Stark Industries' Vice Presidents (Jacob DeLeer) claim that he (Tony) would have wanted the company to send a show of force to the upcoming Asia-Pacific Technology Summit to include not just the CEO but also the VP's over the software and research divisions. Translation: DeLeer wanted to go. Tony had wanted to fire the man many times, but DeLeer knew just enough about upcoming projects that firing him was considered too much of a risk. The Board of Directors deemed it best to keep him where they could watch him.

Pepper spied the look on Tony's face upon hearing DeLeer speak. She abruptly announced to the meeting that she needed to step away for another call then disconnected from the conference.

"I know what you're going to say," she began as she held her hands in a halting pose to cut off his rant on the man.

"Why is it that whenever aliens attacked New York that bastard didn't have a concrete block fall on his head?" Tony wondered as Pepper moved toward him.

"We lost a lost a considerable number of managers when people disappeared so we kept him on even though we were planning on getting rid of him five years ago," Pepper explained.

"I'm surprised he didn't attempt a coup when you were out on maternity leave for Morgan," he scoffed.

She blinked several times as that was what had happened, but she did not bother to confirm the accusation. She simply notched the remark in the column of things Tony likely did remember but couldn't fully access in his memory

"Things are a little chaotic with trying to see where we can fit in those people who have returned so removing him hasn't been on the top of my priority list," she assured Tony. "We moved him off all new projects a year ago as step one in the plan to remove him permanently. Most of his current knowledge is stale so now we can start looking into way to let him go legally."

"Screw legally, just put him on the express lane," Tony suggested. "Give him his wish. Send him to Beijing without a babysitter. Within 48 hours, he'll get arrested. That's grounds for instant termination without recourse to sue for reinstatement under the professional comportment clause of his contract."

She lifted an eyebrow that clearly asked how he knew such a thing. She found it hard to believe that a man who never read a single urgent memo or multimillion dollar sales contract when he was in charge of day-to-day operations ever read an employment contract.

"I looked into it years ago," he offered. "I wanted to get rid of him, but Obie and the Board wouldn't let me."

He snarled at the recollection as he usually did when mentioning his former business partner. Obadiah Stane was a bitter pill for Tony. The man betrayed him and tried to kill him three times, but he'd also been a trusted friend and confidante since the day Tony's parents died. Twenty years of trust and friendship was hard to forget and harder to forgive when the treachery came.

"Why do you think he'll get arrested?" she ignored the reference to the late Stane.

"Because I know about him," he revealed. "I get it. Setting him up for imminent failure isn't the Warren Buffet management style, but screw Warren. Berkshire Hathaway shares trade five to 10 points below Stark Industries. We're winning. Call Elon. Ask him. He'd do it."

"Elon Musk behaves more like you in your less tame days lately," Pepper shook her head wondering when Mercurial head of Tesla would make a new headline that made his own Board of Directors cringe. "He's not giving me management advice. Jake has a lot of years with Stark."

"Well, this Stark," he pointed to himself, "would like those years to come to an end. The guy's an idiot."

"He's a Harvard MBA," Pepper pointed out.

"So?" Tony shrugged. "That never impressed me. Look, you've already got a bunch of Harvard weenies on staff. Want try an experiment? Call a management meeting and throw a rock into the crowd. Bet you can't do it without hitting one."

"I'm not setting anyone up to fail just because you're not impressed by his alma mater," she said. "Nor am I throwing rocks at my employees to prove a point."

"That's because you lack flair and spontaneity," Tony remarked prompting an unwilling smile from her.

"Yes, well, we pronounce that professionalism," Pepper sighed.

"I can help you get over that," he grinned and moved in to kiss her but was denied as she turned her head.

She stepped away from him in a rebuff of his overture. She then turned back to her desk and reached for the rice crackers she had resting there. She shoved one in her mouth while refraining from pointing out that the reason she needed them was her acquiesce to his preferred form of spontaneity.

She let him finish his mini grumbling rant about the company and hoped the crackers would settle her stomach. Getting through the day was difficult. Her mind kept straying to Tony, how he was feeling, and how well he was faring in his Morgan watching duties. It had been mostly quiet (outside the piano recital) downstairs so far. Pepper was glad to see Tony was looking less wan and more awake when lunchtime arrived. On top of her worries about him, she had her own ailments. The nauseous waves were unrelenting. Just like with Morgan, once the morning sickness hit, it hit hard and stayed a while. As if to prove the child was a Stark, it did nothing by halves. The ill feelings lasted most of the day and were resistant to all efforts to contain them. That thought left Pepper smirking as she looked back at Tony, who continued on his management philosophy.

"I'm just saying—as the guy who technically still owns the company—you can jettison that Ivy League ass from the payroll," he suggested. "Just give him some rope and a little freedom. He'll hang himself, guaranteed. Send him to China without a babysitter and _Mr. 'Likes to Leer' _will get caught with a paid escort while on official company business. That is a violation of his contract so I say take the safety restrains off and have the legal team on standby."

Pepper nodded without actually taking the suggestion into consideration. She was unaware of DeLeer's proclivities, and Tony's management style could be described (at best) as eccentric and at worst as chaotic. He was never the poster child for saintly behavior in his years running the company. Back then, he dated a string of models and actresses. None were paid for the pleasure and none ever spoke out publicly against him after their (always brief) liaisons.

She also knew his irritation with DeLeer that day was two-fold. First, he'd walked in to hear the man talking like they had been confidantes. That was a new tactic in management meetings. The more eager members of the staff tried to gain a stronger foothold by flaunting their "Tony Credentials," citing how close they had been to him and how they believed he might want the company to proceed. That Tony kept his contact with most of them to a minimum for a decade didn't dull their zealous claims of friendship. She knew the other reason DeLeer irked Tony was that he was the one VP at Stark who had objected strenuously to Tony appointing Pepper as his successor when he stepped aside as the CEO. Tony retained ownership and was the majority shareholder in the company so there was no power play DeLeer could swing to oust her while Tony was alive. Now that the world believed him dead, DeLeer was making noise again.

"I'm gonna enjoy showing up on the evening news some night this week," Tony said. "I hope that sonofabitch is eating when I do and he chokes on something. Childish, I know, but satisfying."

That had been Tony's decision before lunch to take one burden off Pepper: end the charade. He told her he thought it was time to tell the world he was still around after all. She listened but suspected his sudden desire for exposure was more a reaction to his illness. Having a needle embedded in his jugular and needing a two hour treatment each day awakened his feelings of helplessness. Tony's general reaction to that was never lay down and suffer. It was to put on a false face of strength and confidence then brag to the world about his invincibility or to challenge the world to a duel. Pepper heard him out but insisted they talk to Rhodes (and even Fury) before Tony planned any grand reappearances.

"You're not going in front of any cameras just yet," Pepper forbid him. "Today, you are recovering from an emergency medical procedure. Later this evening we—did you hear that, I said WE—are going to discuss a controlled release of information. As for right now, did you need something from me? Or do you want to just stand here and quietly sulk until your playmate is awake again?"

As scoldings go, it was insulting (and accurate, he supposed). Tony curled his lip then shook his head.

"I'm actually here to tell you that I'm heading out to the garage," he told her. "If you need me, just tell FRIDAY. Otherwise, I'll come back in when Morgan's up."

"You feel well enough to be out there?"

"This coming from the woman on her second pack of crackers to get through her fifth teleconference of the day," he remarked before kissing her and departing.

The walk to the garage was brisk. The temperature was hovering around 15 degrees as a cold front descended and threatened to bring more snow and ice overnight. Tony was actually glad Pepper decided to avoid the corporate office for a few days. He trusted his technology with his life. He just didn't like the idea of leaving it entirely in charge of Pepper's safety when nature felt like intervening. The weather forecast going forward was dismal. He didn't mind the four seasons of New York. He lived his childhood and teen years between Long Island and Massachusetts, but when the cold and gray weather set in, he missed Malibu. During lunch that day, he suggested to Pepper that they sneak away from a long weekend to California. He owned a large yacht that only got used in recent years to woo corporate clients. Tony suggested they simply fly west and anchor it off Catalina for a few nights to find the sun.

She pointed out that doing so was problematic as a crew was needed, and Tony would get recognized by them the moment he stepped off the chopper. He joked that he could pose as her boy-toy and tell everyone she held a Tony lookalike contest, and he was the winner. That won him no points and shelved his suggestion of a vacation.

That's when it hit him how trapped he was with their current arrangement. He was no longer confined to just the concrete walls of the Avengers' new compound, but he was equally trapped in his home. Granted, five square miles of lake and forest was a nice alternative, but trapped was trapped. He wanted to be on his yacht; he wanted to return to Cipriani; he missed the house in Dubai. Publicly returning to the land of the living was the only way out of the invisible walls.

He entered the shop with that determination firmly set in his mind only to forget it entirely as he spied a man standing at the workbench. Tony's feet floundered under him as he stumbled then braced himself against the wall as his knees went wobbly with shock.

"Okay, I'm either tripping on Bruce's groovy metal juice, or I've had a stroke," he gaped as he pressed a hand to his chest. "I thought I was the only living dead guy around here."

"I don't know about that, but before you faint Director Fury would like me to talk to you," Agent Phil Coulson said.

**oOoOo**


	18. Chapter 18

**oOoOo**

Peter blew on his gloved hands—regular gloves mind you, no spider gloves for this job. Sargent Barnes (Peter felt odd calling him Bucky) was clear that Peter needed to look as normal as possible. A skinny guy in a mask and tight suit adorned with a spider web design wouldn't draw any attention in the village or SOHO, but in that crumby corner of the city, it would. Drab colors, damp hoodie, slush spattered shoes, and downward cast eyes were the norm. Peter's job was to stand on the corner and watch who entered and exited the building where he first played lookout for his new overseer—the same building where he thought he saw/heard a body fall from the roof.

So far, all Peter seen on the assignment was a lot of downtrodden accountants, uptight attorneys, and depressed clerks. Still, a mission was a mission. He had nothing else to do on his vacation from school. He saw no reason to get a jump on his assignments. He'd have little trouble with them when they needed to be tackled officially.

He felt uninspired in classes. He couldn't tell anyone what he'd going through or how he'd fought in the big battle that shook the world. He couldn't even tell them why he could barely sleep at night. The sight of Mr. Stark dying in front of him, looking at him without seeing him as his life faded, was too painful. So, Peter focused on anything new and important. The job for Sargent Barnes fit that perfectly. Peter took down a description of everyone he saw enter the building. He shuffled out of his doorway post across the street to occasionally check the rear entrance for foot traffic as well. He worried people thought he was a drug dealer. When he told Sargent Barnes that, the man was pleased. He told Peter that was perfect because this was the kind of neighborhood where that occupation would blend in nicely. Peter just hoped no one would come to him asking to buy. He only had a roll of wintergreen lifesavers in his pocket.

_I've come a long way_, Peter sighed and grumbled as he stamped his frozen feet on the sidewalk. _Mr. Stark brought me to Germany to face off with some rebelling superheroes. Then I stopped a hijacker from stealing alien technology, and later went into space to try and save the world. I returned in time to actually help that happen. Now, I've been demoted to daylight lookout at an old building in a cruddy neighborhood. No superhero duties on the radar. Sargent Barnes wants the work to be done low-tech so I don't even have Karen to keep me company. It's like I've lost everything._

_Of course, I was only an Avenger for like an hour before everyone disappeared. Then I was part of the team again for like 30 minutes of fighting before…_

Peter's throat seized. He caught his sob half way up his chest before forcing it down and scrunching his eyes to prevent tears from falling.

_Mr__. __Stark only made me an Avenger because he thought we'd never come home. He thought we would both die on Titan so he made me his partner to give me hope as well as fulfill my wish._ _He never wanted me to doing any this. He never believed I could face danger and win. Well, I did help and we won in the end… mostly._

_And now Sargent Barnes needs me. That's what matters. Probably._

Peter's pep talk for himself was falling flat in his head. The trouble was, if he was doing something so right, why hadn't he told Happy? He'd come by late the previous evening to see Aunt May and check on Peter. He was an odd mood that Peter attributed to holiday spirit.

Happy reported that he'd had a good visit with Pepper and Morgan then shot a pained glance at Peter. What it meant, Peter didn't know. He supposed it was partly worry that Peter might still be mopey and miserable about losing his hero (and he'd have been right about the miserable part because he certainly wasn't mopey… much). Happy also seemed to indicate that Mr. Stark's family was doing well. So if that was the case, then Peter had no excuse not to follow suit. Peter was glad Morgan had a good Christmas. He'd been older than she was when he lost his parents. She was young so she might have been easily distracted by gifts or whatever else filled her holiday. Regardless of how she reacted, Peter noticed Mr. Stark's loss on her behalf. How could he not? All the end of the year news wrap-ups seemed to finish with a five minute montage dedicated to the life of the fallen Avenger.

Peter's eyes flooded as those images came to mind. Anger was one of those stages of grief he hadn't quite reached yet. He had denial, bargaining, and depression in spades. Acceptance might never come. Try as he might, he just couldn't find it in him to accept what his eyes told him. Mr. Stark died in front of him, defeating the foe, and sacrificing himself just minutes after he hugged Peter and expressed his relief at seeing his protégé once more.

_If I had known that was the last time he'd talk to me_, Peter told himself as he thumbed a tear from his eye, _I'd have hung on for a few seconds longer_.

He looked up and took a deep breath to clear his head in time to see one of the men he previously recorded for Sargent Barnes entering the building from the rear. The man was wearing an overcoat much too long for him, and it looked like underneath it he only a silver leotard.

**oOoOo**

Pepper sat on the couch with her legs curled under a blanket as the evening swallowed the view from the windows. Tony joined her, handing her a mug of herbal tea that she hoped would settle her stomach. Morgan was in bed following a marathon of three stories after arguing she was owed for the ones she didn't get previously. Tony was no match for his daughter and had buckled when she offered him her patented pout. He returned to the ground floor to find Pepper still struggling with keeping dinner down.

"So is it like this the whole time?" he asked her with concern.

"It stopped near the middle of the second trimester with Morgan," she reported. "The tea usually helps. So what happened with you today?"

"Nothing," he told her. "I was here with you."

"You were planning to get your face on CNN at lunchtime," she reminded him. "You went out to the garage for two hours and came back without mentioning it again. Why?"

"A lot of reasons," Tony sighed, hating that he needed to lie to her. "Tinkering clears my head."

"What did you create this time?" she asked. "Must be something astounding to have shifted your mind off booking a 60 Minutes interview."

Tony shook his head and said he was still in the design phase and hadn't actually picked up a single tool. He did admit that his afternoon was revelatory.

"I realized that you're right," he said. "Doing the rash thing isn't usually smart. I know better than that by now. We need a plan. Well, we need a good reason first, which I don't have. If I come up with that, then we'll need a plan."

"Just the fact that you're alive isn't a good enough reason?" she wondered.

Tony didn't respond. He heard what Coulson had to say, and it hit home. There were threats still, some unknown. At that time, there was reason to believe one was lurking and looking for Tony. Danger to Tony meant danger to his wife and daughter. Hiding him, therefore, was the best protection.

Whether the threat, an unidentified one at present time, was responsible for Tony being back was not known for certain but definitely suspected. Fury, it seemed, was still neck deep in the secrets game and was pulling Tony into it as well. Finding out Coulson survived Loki's attack on the helicarrier in New York years earlier was shocking yet satisfying. Keeping the secret from Pepper was disheartening. Learning that nameless, faceless foes stalked him and therefore might put his family in danger if he went public with being alive made it so much worse. Protecting Morgan, Pepper, and the baby at all costs was Tony's duty.

Coulson said he understood that but offered Tony an alternative: _Let someone else do that. _The world owed Tony a debt. There was nothing wrong with letting them pay him back for it.

Tony had to reluctantly agree (or at least not overtly disagree) because he knew, in his present condition, there really wasn't much he could do to protect anyone, least of all himself. The helpless, vulnerable feeling that at one time spurred him to make nearly 100 new suits of armor had returned, and he hated it. The old, familiar ache in his chest was back, letting him know his old friend anxiety was still close by.

"I think I've just got cabin fever," Tony said eventually to Pepper. "That's not a good enough reason to bring extra chaos down on you and Morgan right now. Plus, I've got this whole science project thing with Bruce going on. After we get that sort out, we can look at options and the fallout. You don't need endless press conferences and a yo-yoing stock market on a good day. You need it even less when you look like you want to throw up every 10 minutes."

He reached his arm around her as she rested her head gratefully on his shoulder.

"This is normal," she assured him. "It goes away eventually. It's perfectly natural, and I can handle it. So don't make my morning sickness a reason for you to stay in hiding. Are you sure you want to continue laying low? I was thinking today that there are a lot of things that you could help with if you were in the public again. The press sits up and drools when you talk. The applications September Foundation Grants for this year will come in soon. I want you to weigh in on those. We could arrange your announcement to coincide with the awarding of the new grants. It would bring a lot of attention to the Foundation and all the good work it's been doing."

The academic community and a few sectors of industry paid attention whenever a grant was awarded because it could mean scientific breakthroughs or huge money-making inventions. But nothing in the last five years compared to attention it received when Tony himself was a participant in announcement. He'd skipped the conference announcing the grants following the events on Titan. Despite the loss of half the planet, the Foundation continued—maintaining the idea that progress needed to continue. Each presentation since the blip, there was little to no media coverage. While the money supporting the Foundation was sufficient, the innovation and potential it represented needed to flourish as well. Pepper told him that reviving it in the media might be something that would help the world get off its heels and stop reeling from the past by looking toward the future.

"MIT collectively would sob with joy to know you're still around," she predicted. "They would beg on their knees to have you do the actual presenting of the grants at the banquet. Morgan and I would be there with you. She's never seen you give a speech. You'd be her hero for all new reasons."

He sighed at the suggestion. Taking Morgan to MIT, showing her the school and hoping it inspired her to dream big and create even bigger was tempting, but Coulson's news was of greater interest and worry for him.

"The media can find someone else for their feeding frenzy," he said. "MIT's got a deep bench of people to stand in front of cameras. I'm not necessary."

Pepper looked up at him and saw uncertainty that she read as doubt in himself.

"I'm going to convince you somehow that you are who I say you are," she said firmly. "Bruce's word and theories don't outweigh my facts or my feelings."

"Who I am or who I'm not doesn't really matter," Tony said. "Whoever was here before is gone one way or another. The guy who saved the universe is gone and should be left in peace. I'm here and being _just_ here is enough for me. Besides, I think the world has had enough Tony Stark."

She didn't comment on his rational. She, for one, hadn't had enough of him. There were times when he was too much, but that was far different than finding an absence of him satisfying. Even when they'd been separated in the past, they'd always come back together. Tony always tried to do what he thought was right; it just didn't always work out. He could be a little bold, brash, and rough on the world if it wasn't to his liking. Conversely, the world had not always been kind or gentle to Tony. His father was cold and distant when Tony needed so much more from him. Tony was put on a course at a very young age by that yearning for his father's attention and approval. It drove him to great heights and accomplishments academically and professionally, but it stunted him personally. His parents were taken from him when he was just a teenager, thrusting an empire and it's tonnage of expectations on his young shoulders. That ultimately led to his kidnapping in Afghanistan, which changed the course of his life and that of the whole world.

She worried his desire to remain a recluse was more than just attention fatigue from his former life in the spotlight or a desire to protect her and Morgan from the glare of it as well.

"Are you choosing to be a hermit because you're worried that," she pointed at the IV port visible under his shirt, "might not work?"

"No," he assured her as he took her hand and kissed it. "Pep, I think it is working. I feel different. Maybe that's placebo effect. Maybe not. I just know I don't feel the way I did last week, and I'm glad for it."

"So I shouldn't expect any more suggestions about jetting off to Italy or California?" Pepper asked, repeating his wishes from earlier in the day. "No more thoughts of walking into Times Square and greeting tourists?"

He shook his head. Hiding in his secluded spot by the lake surrounded by SHIELD technology and guards was the plan. He'd hate it in a lot of ways, but if it was what he needed to do to keep his family safe, then that's what he would do.

"I've got everything I need and want right here," he told her as he tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her.

"If you're sure," she said. "I'll support whatever you choose to do. Just pick a lane and stay there. I'm already sick to my stomach. You flipping from extrovert to introvert more than once in a day is going to make me dizzy as well. Just remember that if you do decide to come out of the shadows, you'll never get a chance to go back. But if you stay hidden, you're missing out on a lot of chances."

"My choice is made," he assured her. "I'm here. Audience of two and later this year three. That's enough for me."

She lifted an eyebrow, not convinced that decision would last, but she noted something rigid in his voice that worried her. He might not crave the swarming crowds that used to surround him before Thanos decimated half the planet, but she doubted he could stay silently unknown for the rest of his life. Tony was an extrovert; he needed people. Seclusion was never good for him. Still, there was something that felt a little like fear hiding in his carefully chosen words.

"If you're worried about us," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder, "I've lived with you and your spotlight before and managed it. The children will be fine, too."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, "but it's not about me anymore. You're the public figure now."

She nodded and grimaced.

"Speaking of figures," she remarked, "if you really want to do this secret existence, you need to promise me you won't have a fit when our new addition becomes fodder for public discussion. You're still a topic for chatter on social media. I think it's likely people are going to presume the baby is yours, but there is also a chance they'll think, say, tweet, and post some horrible things about me if your psychotically adoring fans think otherwise."

His brow furrowed. Tony believed in the totality approach of protecting her. Pepper could deal with an angry press. She could face down an overreach by the government to obtain propriety technology. She could withstand rebelling board members and ambitious staffers but facing a bitchy, opinionated, unrestrained public hell-bent on defending his memory was not her job. Their nasty words (although he would not want to hear or read them) wouldn't be the problem. It was the possibility of any aggressive action they might take toward her that concerned him. The reason the Board of Directors had taken insurance on Tony and forced him to employ a personal bodyguard years earlier was as much for his adoring fans as it was for those who felt slighted or jealous of him. There were lunatics of every ilk and motivation. They could (and would) try to do most anything.

"That's why we employ Happy to run security," he remarked. "I'll ignore social media if we agree he gets to pummel anyone dangerous or even just aggressive who gets within spitting distance of you. Deal?"

**oOoOo**

Tony returned to Banner for a checkup three days after the procedure. Banner ruled that the patient was showing noticeable improvement in all systems. The anemia was no worse. There was still cell degradation occurring, but the rates were much lower. He explained it like he was describing a racing locomotive. The engine pushing it forward was stopped and the brakes were on, but the wheels were still sliding on the tracks. Eventually, they would come to a stop and they could throw the engine into reverse. Tony merely scoffed and said he didn't build trains and that a repulsor engine was swifter and more efficient. Pepper took his competitive edge as a sign he was feeling better, and she could return to work at the corporate headquarters the next day.

So it was with some shock that as she prepared to fly to the city the following morning that she halted her departure. She was making her way to the car that would take her to the helicopter when a vehicle with Tennessee license plates pulled into the driveway. A lanky teen with a mop of dirty blond hair got out.

"Uh hi, Pepper," Harley Keener said while sporting a nervous expression.

"Harley?" she blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he began to explain looking uncomfortable and awkward, "Mr. Hogan came to see me a few days ago and…"

"I summoned him," Tony announced as he walked onto the porch with Morgan bundled up behind him.

He paused at Pepper's side and kissed her on the cheek as he passed by, chatting over his shoulder to her as he continued toward the garage and the guest.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it," Tony apologized.

"Hold on," she ordered, stopping him in his tracks. "Why is Harley here?"

Tony pointed at the pitiful looking 2015 Kia that looked like it was on its last miles. Pepper frowned, not liking the literal answer. She demanded with her eyes something more on point with what she was actually asking.

"He's failing out of Tulane so he's here for an internship," Tony explained as Morgan waited patiently in the space separating her parents.

"Not actually failing," Harley offered.

"Really?" Tony remarked sternly before looking at his wife. "He's GPA was 2.2 last semester."

"He's an intern?" she questioned. "Doing what? Harley, what did he ask you to do?"

The 19-year-old swallowed hard and looked at her firm expression. He'd talked to Pepper numerous times on the phone over the years because Tony often put him on speakerphone when Harley called him. They'd stayed in touch ever since Harley helped Tony Stark when he faced off with a terrorist who blew up his house in California. Tony had eventually set Harley up with a scholarship so that he could study engineering like his hero. What annoyed Tony (enough that he always mentioned it) was that Harley chose the wrong school. Now that his grades were under scrutiny, Harley felt another complaint session was on the horizon—not that he minded. First of all, Tony was alive to be complaining (Harley was still enjoyably rocked off his heels about that). And next, he never minded Tony's rants. There were entertaining as long as you weren't foolish enough to take the harsh words and tone personally. Tony had a big heart and expected everyone around him to have a thick skin.

"I wasn't asked really so much as ordered," Harley explained to her. "I was just told me to get my a— uh, to get here ASAP to work on engine we're designing."

"I'm designing," Tony corrected him. "Me. You're observing and fetching things." He then pointed at the teenager. "And no talking unless you're asked a question, got it?"

Harley smiled and tried to keep from laughing. Tony's belligerent drill sargent act never made much of an impression on him. Tony was an authority on all things in engineering. As for being a disciplinarian, Harley found him comical.

"So, are you going to be like this this whole time?" Harley wondered as Tony walked toward his guest with Morgan griping his hand and keeping step with him.

"I'm like this all the time," Tony replied as he entered the garage.

Harley grinned and waved to Pepper then followed Tony past a car and into another room with various work stations and equipment.

"I'm not actually failing out of school," Harley asserted as he scoped out the lab/shop with eyes growing wider by the second.

"You had three incompletes in the last two semesters and only registered for two classes this semester," Tony noted. "As plans go to get a degree, that's a fail."

"Daddy," Morgan whispered as Tony bent down to address her. "Who's that?"

"That's Harley," he said. "He's going to work with me for a while. Now, you get to work in your corner with your blocks. Build me a city. I want tall buildings that don't fall down or you're fired, okay?"

She grinned widely and nodded excitedly before skipping off to a back corner that was free of equipment. It instead had a table lower to the ground that was covered in various colors and sizes of wooden and plastic blocks.

"Before you get into your groove of being all surly and giving me orders," Harley said, "can I at least say I'm glad you're alive?"

"Well, you're right," Tony nodded, "that is the least you could say. Did you not understand when I told you no taking unless you're asked a question?"

A lesser man would have tucked tail and skulked into a corner waiting for orders. Harley laughed and stripped off his jacket then laced his fingers to crack his knuckles to show he was ready to get to work.

"Better," Tony nodded then pulled up a preliminary schematic on the heads up display as he began talking to FRIDAY about displaying some equations and designs that needed testing.

**oOoOo**

Osborne looked both ways, twice, as he darted out of his office building. He had a creepy feeling lately that he was being watched. It might his nutty partner, Morley (who he refused to call '_Ghost'_ because it was patently stupid to call a living man a specter even if he was batshit crazy), or it might be some past business associates. The maniac with the metal arm came to mind most readily. Whoever it was, Osborne didn't want to meet him on a New York street when he had no back up.

The trouble with the business he did, Osborne knew, was that eventually it always caught up to you. It was great for sudden windfalls and short bursts of feeling powerful, but in the end something always brought the world crashing down. The trick was to have as much money stashed away in other places so that he could hide when that time came. The prickly feeling along his neck told him that day was approaching.

If he could just get his hands on the formula Morley wanted, he would be on easy street forever. He'd sell it to the highest bidder. Morley thought Osborne wanted his suit technology to continue in the corporate espionage game. The fool. Sure, he wanted it, but once he realized what that maniac was after, Osborne knew he needed it for himself. Funding his partner's project to trap Tony Stark and force him to give up the secret was a small price to pay. Morley wanted to rule the world; Osborne just wanted to be filthy rich in a nation with beaches, beautiful women, bribable security forces, and no US extradition treaty. His goal was so much easier to attain.

He quickened his step as he made his way to the subway station. He felt safer in crowds, especially lately, with Morley growing more insistent for information about where Stark was being held. Osborne's contact had divulged only that the man was under medical care. It sounded like Morley's efforts were all for nothing if the man was going to be dead soon.

But that didn't end Osborne's chance at the prize.

The formula wasn't owned by Stark Industries. If it was, they'd have flaunted it and produced it years ago when they were weapons mongers. No, the fact it was still a secret told Osborne that Stark himself kept it hidden. Where was the big question. A smart man would surrounded it with every bit of security known to man: dogs, guards, lasers, cameras, hell trap doors and killer bees if possible. The thing was, Stark wasn't a smart man. He was a genius (regardless of what Morley said when he got on one of his tirades). A genius didn't think like the average person. That meant the security would be something no one else would consider.

Once Osborne realized that, the answer was obvious. He planned to get on a plane and search out his leading spot for himself. Then (once the formula was in his hands), he'd drop a dime to his contact and with the Avengers. Morley would be back in prison and Osborne would be ready to play _Let's Make a Deal_ with whoever brought the most cash.

He was so focused on his plan that he never noticed the tiny shard of metal that flew through the air and embedded in the wool of his overcoat and began transmitting coordinates and sounds.

Peter rested on a fire escape just above where Osborne shuffled past. His tracker and bug, one of the many cool things he was still discovering in the Iron Spider suit, was transmitted according to Karen. Peter sent a message to Sergeant Barnes about it and let him know he planned to pick up the trail the next morning with whatever data the bug captured overnight.

And it would have been a covert great plan if he hadn't been seen.

**oOoOo**


	19. Chapter 19

**oOoOo**

Hill tapped the arm of her oversized owlish eyeglasses, the ones that made her look like an awkward, spinster secretary from a 1980s movie. They were a fashion faux pas of the first order by most accounts, but that was only for those who had no idea what the hi-tech spectacles could do. In addition to making no one want to look at her for their ugliness, they enhanced night vision, gave infrared readouts and transmitted facial images back to her SHIELD counterparts to run in their databases. She was simply following Osborne at a respectable distance when the glasses tracked a small titanium projectile that landed on his coat and began transmitting a signal.

The earbud she wore crackled to life instantly.

"That's some quality lint he's picked up," the tech on the other end said. "Trajectory was about 42 degrees, and it had some internal propulsion. It was launched from the second story of the building you're passing. Take a look for me."

Hill dropped her bulky purse, another prop to make her more of an eyesore. As she did, she turned around then pushed the glasses up on her head briefly. When she gathered the bag and returned her glasses to her nose, the image it bounced back was in shadow but was broadcast back to Camp Delta instantly.

"Oh, friend alert," the tech announced.

"Yeah, I figured the guy was still watching," Hill scoffed quietly. "Did you get an image you can identify?"

"That's what I'm telling you," the tech replied. "It's a friend. Your shadow dweller shooting the metal spitballs is Peter Parker, age…. Uh, how are they doing the ages now for the folks who were gone? He should be 23 by the calendar, but…"

"He's 17," Hill sighed. "He's using tech from Stark?"

"That would be my guess."

"I'll get closer to see if you can pick up what it's transmitting," Hill said. "That thing's too small to be a weapon."

"Unless it's chemical," came the response.

"Stark didn't do chemical weapons," she said. "This is his boy wonder. Whatever he's got its either defensive in nature or to gather intel. I'm thinking it's a bug or a GPS tag."

"Better question," Fury's voice interrupted the discussion. "What is Peter Parker doing tracking your assignment, and how didn't you know he was doing it before now?"

"Obviously, I have more work to do," Hill said through clenched teeth. "I'll make contact after Osborne leaves the train. He normally gets off at 59th Street. I'll advise once we come to the surface again."

Without waiting for further admonishment, she hurried down the steps of the nearby station. The technician in her ear informed her that Osborne's credit card had just posted an airline ticket purchase made just before he left his office. The flight would depart JFK and land at LAX. He had also booked a rental car and preprogramed his navigation app with one address: 10880 Malibu Point.

"What's there?" Hill asked.

"Nothing but a hole in a seaside cliff," the technician said. "It's where Stark's mansion used to be before it got blasted into the ocean."

"Hill, abort mission; you're off Osborne," Fury's voice boomed over the transmission. "Talk to Parker. Find out what he knows and how he fits into this."

**oOoOo**

Cap sat in the both at the 1950s style diner across the street from the building where Bucky said he was working. The waitress was kindly and pudgy with a hairstyle that fit the décor expertly. He wasn't sure if Bucky chose the place to be close to his job or because this was his way of making an old joke by choosing an ancient styled diner called the Early Bird Special.

"Seems quiet," Cap nodded toward the derelict building visible out the frosty window. "You must get bored."

"Not really," Bucky said. "Catching up on some reading. Caught up on some movies, too. Seen _The Great Escape_, the original and the remake, a few times. Brought back some good memories."

He hoisted his coffee mug and grinned as he gave a silent toast to the Howling Commandos. Cap smiled back. Bucky was in a good mood. It reminded him of their carefree days ages ago before the war with Germany that changed them both irrevocably. He sighed contentedly.

"What is it?" Bucky asked.

"Nothing," Cap shook his head. "Just glad to see you. I've been worried. You've been evasive lately."

Bucky nodded. Keeping close to his captive was necessary. He'd been sitting on the man a lot longer than he expected. Someone other than Sam should have been looking for the guy. Dr. Tanis's employer would have to know he was being held somewhere and would be talking. Bucky's initial plan was to wait for that visit—he'd left enough clues for Osborne's silver psycho to track him—and just get his answer straight from the man in charge.

But he never came.

Parker saw him twice at Osborne's office. The man rambled again about needing his formula and needing "Stark" to get it. From his infrequent chats with Sam, it sounded like there was still no interest in protecting the Stark family; however, a little recon by Bucky revealed there was plenty of security surrounding the lake house Tony's widow and her daughter called home. Someone had tightened access to her away from the house as well because there was a noticeable presence of tall, broad shouldered men surrounding her anytime she was seen coming or going from the street entrance at Stark Tower in the city. The media noted the uptick in protection as well. The less classy outlets reported it was because of a backlash because she had a new beau in her life. Bucky didn't believe that; she was far too devastated on the battlefield and at the funeral to have found someone new so soon. He didn't know her personally, but he tipped his hat to Tony Stark. He picked a fine looking, poised woman. Bucky was certain that would have made Howard proud.

He shook thoughts of the sad but lovely woman from his mind as he considered again the dilemma of his captive. He was going to take the man up on his offer of information. He doubted the doctor knew anything of value. He wasn't a SHIELD agent and confessed they kept him in a secluded part of the base to act as their emergency medical service provider. With nothing resembling an emergency now that the Avengers were just playing roundup with missing fugitives, the guy had likely treated nothing more intriguing than a sprained ankle. Still, he might offer a detail or two that would help Bucky figure out how to lure out the maniac who threw him off a building.

"You're awful quiet, Buck," Cap noted. "Don't make me start worrying again."

"I'm fine, old man," he chuckled. "Just remembering a few tasks I've gotta take care of this evening. What are you up to lately?"

The answer was worrying mostly. Fury had taken his call reluctantly weeks earlier when Cap spotted none other than the believed-deceased Phil Coulson on the train from Baltimore to New York City. He then denied what Cap knew was a fact and disconnected. That worried Cap. Fury's secrets usually amounted to trouble, and this was a big one. The man was undeniably Coulson, and Hill confessed that quickly. Cap was prepared to track the man down himself if needed. That they were told years earlier that the man died did not shock him. Fury had needed a way to make the team come together, to fight for a cause and feel a singleness of purpose. After that moment, they did bond, so it baffled him why they were kept in the dark about the man's actual status afterward. Barton and Natasha had known and worked with Coulson the longest. Cap hoped that they were not in on the deception, but that was the problem with those little lies. They infested everything and could destroy trust.

Just as bad were those of the team who had grieved the man's loss. Cap had just met Coulson but liked him instantly. His devotion to just causes and his appreciation of Cap's contribution was both appreciated and endearing. He also recalled the guilt-ridden look on Tony's face as he processed the man's death. He'd known Coulson for a while, since the agent served as the liaison between Fury's Avenger's initiative and Tony's consultant capacity. The man's death hit Tony hard. He'd taken his rage out on Loki when he confronted Thor's brother in the penthouse at Stark Tower, referring to the fallen agent by his first name and using him as his reason for lashing out at the Asgardian God of Mischief.

"Looking a little nostalgic and confused there, pal," Bucky noted. "You get lost wandering up Memory Lane?"

"That does sum up how I'm feeling," Cap sighed. "That's something I never expected. I've lived two lifetimes, but it's in the second one that I find I look back and miss so much about the first. Of course, I do miss Peggy, but we had so many good years. I wouldn't trade them for anything, but lately I'm stuck on that other past. Maybe it's because I'm now in a time when everything is officially all new to me because my future is finally here."

Bucky nodded. He'd lived two lifetimes as well but found he didn't really miss much of the first one at all—at least nothing after the 1940s.

"When you were reliving some of it," Bucky wondered, "were you ever tempted to be where you knew the action was? Or did you go see people that you weren't supposed to know yet?"

Cap started to shake his head then stopped. He had done it, several times, in small ways. Each time it was for the same person. None of the moments were exactly planned. He didn't interact with anyone he shouldn't, but he happened to be on hand and couldn't resist watching from afar.

"I did look in on a friend a few times from a distance," he admitted then offered sorrowful eyes. "It wasn't you. I'm sorry. I wanted to go and get you, but…"

He paused as the waitress stopped by to freshen their coffee cups, but Bucky paid her no attention.

"But I needed to do what they were having me do," he nodded his understanding. "I get that. I'd have probably just killed you anyway."

The waitress nearly spilled the pot but laughed nervously as Cap made a chiding remark about his "youngest son" always being so dramatic. She nodded and walked away with Bucky grinning foolishly.

"Who'd you go see?" he asked. "Your family from Brooklyn was all gone by then."

"It was Tony," Cap admitted. "Each time. I just sort of happened upon places where he was a couple times when he was still in school."

"You weren't afraid of running into Howard?"

"No," Cap shook his head sadly.

One thing he learned from Peggy was that a fair percentage of Tony's animosity toward his father was justified. Howard spent more of his time on work than he did on raising his son. It was almost a pitiful cliché to see a young boy with everything a child (even most adults) wanted: success, recognition, accolades, and money, but who wanted something more. The one thing Tony actually craved (his father's affection and attention) was out of reach. One of the reasons Cap had opted to do his clandestine visits was to see if there was any reason he could determine for why Howard behaved like he didn't care he had a son, but no answer ever surfaced. Cap even asked Peggy about it once. Her face clouded, as though she knew the troubling answer, but all she said in response was that it was fear on Howard's part. Fear of what, Cap never did learn.

Bucky listened quietly and nodded. If it had been him who'd gone back in time, he'd have skipped the folks he knew and gone to see who killed JFK, whether that singer Elvis was really dead, stuff like that. He wasn't sentimental like his friend. He also didn't have the same close ties Cap did with his former team.

Admittedly, Cap made the effort to look in on Tony from a distance out of guilt and curiosity. He left each event a little sadder and a little more proud of his comrade. It was odd to miss someone he was destined to meet in the future, just like it was weird to feel pangs of worry when the news broke about his disappearance after an ambush in Afghanistan. Cap had muddled through those feelings by assuring Peggy, whose mind was just beginning to fail at that time, that he felt confident Howard's son would pull through in the end.

"So all those years ago, Peggy never mentioned work to you much?" Bucky wondered. "I mean, she knew you knew what she did. She knew she could trust you."

"We kept our life together just that: ours," Cap said. "Work was for work hours only."

"So you had no idea what Howard was working on before he…," Bucky paused then nodded, to himself to be blunt, "before I did what I did to him?"

Cap offered him understanding look that was all the softer due to the aged crinkles around his blue eyes. He shook his head.

"You don't need to think about any of that," he counseled. "It's in the past and should be left there. It really doesn't matter anymore."

Bucky offered a flat smile hoping it came off as agreement, which was a lie. Howard, dead several decades, was very much at the center of Bucky's world right now. Although Cap wouldn't discuss Howard or his work, Bucky was convinced that if his friend knew Erskine's super soldier formula existed, he'd have done something to destroy it so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands again.

_Of course_, Bucky reasoned, _Howard could be secretive bastard_. _He was the one in charge of the Strategic Science Reserve when he died. Considering how dangerous the formula was, he might not have shared with Peggy what he'd recreated. And there's no doubt he'd did it. It's why I murdered him and his wife._

**oOoOo**

It was embarrassing, being a superhero and finding out he still had a babysitter. It was one thing when Mr. Stark looked out for him, Peter thought ruefully. That felt special (if sometimes like punishment at the start) because Mr. Stark himself was a superhero both with and without his armor. Commander Hill was more like the lady who watched the playground and yelled at kids when they went too high on the swings.

They sat in a nameless slice joint several blocks from the bus stop Peter was at waiting to go home when she arrived. He'd recognized her after a moment. She was at Mr. Stark's house the day of the funeral. She was some sort of assistant to Director Fury, who Peter avoided beyond just getting a stiff nod from the man before he departed with the enigmatic Commander Hill following him. Now, she was sitting in a boot at the table she snagged for them, eating Stromboli and waiting him to return to his seat and answer her question.

When she asked him what he was doing and why (after letting him know he'd tagged the guy from the office), Peter didn't know what to say. To buy himself time, he'd take a large bite of his slice. The trouble was, it was hot. The cheese began to scald the roof of his mouth, bringing tears to his eyes and nearly making him choke. He'd detoured to the men's room (one of the grungier affairs he'd ever spied despite having living in New York City his whole life) and composed himself. While swishing his mouth and determining there would be blisters there, he came up with his plan. Sergeant Barnes never told him the mission was covert, but learning Director Fury's assistant didn't know what was going on worried him. Mr. Stark first recruited Peter because of schism within the Avengers. Just because they had all fought side-by-side to defeat Thanos a few months earlier didn't mean that everything was on the up and up again.

It was a fairly simple formula for Peter when determining who to trust. Anyone at the funeral who was there are the start and stayed through the gathering afterward was in the trusted column. That included Sargent Barnes. He'd accompanied Captain America and the other Avengers. Hill, like Fury, arrived late and left early. They didn't mingle with the other mourners. So Peter's choice was made. He was partnered with Sargent Barnes. If he hadn't told Hill and her counterparts what he was doing, then it wasn't Peter's place to change that.

He went back to the table and did something he usually avoided doing: He lied.

**oOoOo**

Tony returned to the house as an icy wind began screaming off the lake. He pushed the lingering, tempting, and comforting thoughts of sitting in the warm Pacific air off Avalon out of his mind as he shook the cold from his bones. Morgan had left him alone in the garage when Pepper returned for the evening; in the quiet, the cold dug deeper and his thoughts had turned equally dismal. He entered the house to find her and Pepper at the table playing a game.

"You had dinner without me?" he observed. "A guy shows up just two hours late and this is the treatment he gets?"

Pepper offered him an expression that said it was his own fault; she'd asked him to join them twice; and she wasn't delaying the chance to eat when her body was interested in doing that. Tony smirked at her matter-of-fact lack of compassion. Even a scolding from her could warm him.

"Mommy said if you didn't come in you'd be a popsicle," Morgan laughed.

"Maybe I am one," he said and pressed the back of his chilled hand to her warm face making her yelp then cackle louder.

"Keep those cold hands away from me," Pepper warned. "There's leftovers in the…"

Tony shook his head and waved off the offer. Everything tasted like metal lately. Bruce assured him that was due to the dysprosium reaching its saturation point in Tony's bloodstream. In theory, the side effect would eventually taper off or Tony would grow used to it and not find it a problem. He didn't want to do it, but he was considering returning to chlorophyll supplements to see if that would combat some of the problem. He'd wait to explain that to Pepper when Morgan was not around as she was even more curious about everything lately than usual. For that reason, Pepper had decreed she would tell their daughter about her sibling when the time was right. She didn't fully trust Tony's idea of an appropriate explanation to a child for where babies came from. Whether he might rely on science or sarcasm to do the job, she thought it was just easier to give the little girl her version.

"Where is Harley?" Morgan asked looking behind her father.

"He's gone back to the hotel," Tony said. "You know, he'd have gotten his work done today if someone didn't keep calling him to come look at her sculpture."

Morgan was into clay creations that week and had decided Harley was her art critic. He obliged her each time she called for his opinion. Tony felt a little sore at being replaced for that job, but it did give him more time to work on the several design issues plaguing him.

His problem wasn't a lack of understanding of the problem. His issue was that his thoughts kept straying. Harley had broken the rule about talking. While Morgan napped that afternoon, he'd rambled to Tony about how the previous year had been difficult on his family. His father—the one who took off when Harley was a little kid—returned. He talked his way back into Harley's mother's life while he was away at school. The guy's sob story involved losing his new wife when everyone disappeared. He'd come back to find the family he left in the first place. He was a selfish man and not someone Harley cared to know, but his mother took him back and that's when the trouble began. Harley's little sister moved out of the house to get away and moved in with a boyfriend who was abusive. She dropped out of high school leaving Harley away at college worried about everyone back home. His grades dropped. His interest in classes vanished and he was rushing home every weekend to make sure his sister was okay and that his father hadn't sold the house or cleared out his mother's bank account. Things finally got better in the fall when the guy's missing wife returned and summoned him back to wherever they'd been living.

It bothered Tony how many people suffered during the five year gap. He knew nothing about it personally, but one glance at Morgan told him the story. He hadn't suffered (him or whoever was there). Pepper got married during that time. Morgan was conceived and born during it. The years that followed were a quiet, close-knit and (by all accounts) a cherished time for the Stark family, all because he didn't stop Thanos in Titan.

"Hey?" Pepper waved her hand at him. "Where did you just go?"

"Hmm?" Tony shook his head then spit out the first believable and innocuous word that came to mind. "Equation."

Pepper frowned then gathered up the game pieces on the table before sending Morgan upstairs to put it away and get her PJ's on. The little girl's newest demand was that she could dress herself. It was always interest to see what she deemed appropriate attire. Once her small feet carried her up the stairs, Pepper turned her gaze back to Tony.

"You want to tell me what's really going on?" she asked. "That thousand yard stare wasn't about math."

Tony shrugged. There was a lot on his mind lately and most of it he couldn't tell her, which just put more on his mind. He didn't consider lack of full disclosure given the circumstances as lying. He also knew Pepper would disagree with that assessment.

"Today, I got the full story for why Harley was screwing up his future," he explained. "Always nice to find out that other people had fathers with more issues than mine."

"Maybe that's true, but that's not what you were thinking," she assessed. "You have an expression that's just for your father. This wasn't it. Come clean."

Tony didn't know what to say. Deep down, he was immeasurably impressed that this woman knew him well enough to catalog facial expressions by subject matter. She was far too perfect for him and deserved much better than he could give her. That thought also churned angrily in his mind—a reminder that there was a chance she wasn't truly his but the other guy's. He did his best to dismiss it, which was hard. He was grumpy from not eating dinner, not interested in remedying the hunger issue until food didn't taste like a handful of wet pennies, and bothered by the intrusive thoughts about how the hell he was alive and present in his current location. She didn't need to hear any of that.

"I need more robots," he said suddenly as his mind jumped to the idea, if only to find something new to work on that wasn't in his current set of problems. "Harley's a great set of hands to have around, but he'll be leaving in the spring. He's got to make up classes this summer if he wants to stay enrolled."

She gave him a skeptical look as she moved toward the cupboard. From there, she took out a jar of peanut butter. Tony smirked. This was what she craved. Nothing weird. Nothing exotic. Pepper had a thing for peanut butter. She had a jar all her own—an organic, vegan, gluten-free stash—that she dipped into with a spoon each evening. He tried once to stick his finger in the jar to see how she would react only to get his hand whacked with her spoon. She had apologized profusely for the reaction (then promptly worried all evening he'd hemorrhage to death from it). When all he had in the morning was the tiniest bruise she relaxed and he assured that he'd learned his lesson.

"You need more human contact, not less," she said around a mouthful. "Harley is a start, but I wish you'd reach out to some others, too. It would do you a lot of good."

Tony smiled at her not her observation. Pepper's ravenous moods were rare, but she indulged them because the nauseous ones tended to linger. Upstairs, Morgan could be heard in her room reading a book to her stuffed animals. Two perfect females in his world. He had to do whatever he could not to screw that up.

"Harley's useful and knows how to keep his mouth shut," Tony said.

"I didn't say he can't be trusted," she said. "I'm actually glad you called him. It's a step in the right direction. I'm just wondering why you won't do the same for Steve or Peter."

Cap and Peter were frequent subjects Pepper pivoted to lately. She was not normally an overly emotional or weepy person so Tony chalked up her misty eyes and heartache over a retired senior citizen and a high school senior, who had been missing for five years, to a hormonal thing. He thought it a maternal urge she couldn't control, but Tony remained firm in his decision to stay off everyone's radar. Pepper still thought it was because he was trying to make peace with memories he lost (the one's Banner had proven to about 88 percent that Tony probably never had). Tony knew keeping the circle of those who knew about him small was the best way to keep his family safe. Not that he thought Peter or Cap would reveal his existence, but Pepper and Morgan's safety came ahead of anyone else's needs or wants for Tony. Coulson came out of his hiding spot to make that point to Tony. Fury chose well when choose the man as his messenger.

"According to Rhodey, Cap has a family with kids and grandkids now," Tony said. "Pete is still in school and is actually passing."

"You're checking on his grades?"

"How else am I supposed to know how he's doing?" he asked. "I didn't say I wasn't interested in how the kid is doing. I just think, since he's doing fine, he should be left alone."

"Here's a crazy idea," Pepper said. "Rather than hacking into his school's computer system to secretly spy on his academic record, you could just ask him yourself."

Her nudges were turning more into pushes as the weeks went on without Tony contacting any of his former teammates or any of those SHIELD personnel who supported them. It was a testament to the control Fury had on those in the know that they hadn't told anyone he was back. Where Peter was concerned, Tony was especially stubborn and Pepper knew why. His last memory of Peter was the one that gouged him deeply. What happened to the teen on Titan still bothered Tony deeply and occasionally haunted him in his sleep. He wasn't experiencing a return to his days of anxiety attacks and nightmares, but he did sometimes confess to reliving in his dreams the moment Peter turned to dust in front of him. Pepper considered it a huge step that Tony admitted that. She tried encouraging him to see Peter in person as she believe it would help, but he always refused.

"We were talking about Harley, not Captain AARP and the kid," Tony insisted. "Helping Harley is just my way of seeing that my years of investment in him don't get blown by him tanking his academic career."

Pepper sighed and rubbed his shoulder.

"You are capable of saying you care about people other than Morgan and me," she informed him. "We won't be jealous."

"I said I trusted him," Tony shrugged. "That's the same thing with me. Ask Harley. He gets it. We're connected."

"He'll just agree with whatever you tell him," she predicted.

Tony argued that the college student had a solid mind and was creative but logical usually. Tony admitted to being distracted at times while he worked, either by what Morgan was doing or by having to check his vitals and send the information to Banner. There were other things on his mind as well. He stared back at Pepper so she understood that list included her. His point was that Harley served an important purpose when working with him.

"Having Harley around to help lets me design without missing stuff that's small but important," Tony explained.

"You can hire a professional therapist to help you sort out what's going on in here," she suggested as she raked her fingers through his hair, "rather than hoping a 19-year-old engineering student can help you outrun your anxiety again."

"Sure, maybe," Tony scoffed, "but what good would a shrink be in my lab?"

"Fine," she shook her head as she turned toward the sink to wash her spoon. "Speaking of professionals, I'll be late tomorrow evening because I have a doctor's appointment and then a meeting with west coast finance team. I'll call you in between to let you know that everything's fine."

Tony slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her, placing a hand on the newly evident bulge at her midsection. She was still able to keep it concealed with her winter wardrobe. She was still undecided how (or if) she would share the news of her condition with anyone at the office. She knew her immediate staff well and they likely had figured it out already but manners and decorum kept them from speaking of it outright. As Pepper was the one in charge, there was no one who needed to be informed as a matter of course or responsibility. The Stark family owned 60 percent of the company shares so there was no board member with enough clout to raise questions. She'd already proved she could carry a child and run the corporation without difficulty. The only reason anyone would want confirmation was for simple curiosity's sake, which would lead to more invasive questions.

"Tabloids started running stories," Tony noted as she leaned into him. "Happy saw some headlines. He's steamed."

"Happy needs to ignore newsstands trash and stop looping you into his daily grip sessions," she replied testily.

"And yet you just said I need more human contact," he reminded her as he nibbled on her ear.

"I meant a greater variety than just the club of your most adoring fans," she corrected.

"Ah," Tony nodded. "Thus the reason you mentioned Rogers."

She huffed but chose not to pursue that likely argument. Instead, she focused on Happy's point of complaint for the day. A tabloid had published a headline announcing there was a Stark heir on the way and ran it next to a photo showing an undeniable pregnant image of Pepper. The trouble was, the image wasn't manipulated for content. It was just misidentified time-wise. They had published a photo taken of her years earlier when she was expecting Morgan.

"He had such a fit about it that the public relations office released a statement clarifying the source and timing of the photo," she fumed.

"They denied that you're pregnant?" Tony wondered. "Doesn't that go against your corporate integrity policy?"

"They didn't address that part of the claim," she explained. "They stated only that the recent photo in a rumor magazine depicting me was taken years ago. That is factual. They dug up the original picture—it was taken when we were in Monaco—to prove it and to correct the impression in the headline that the man holding my hand in it, whose face the paper blurred out, is my new lover. They put the full photo of you and me in the response and made a point about the date it was taken."

She was not pleased with her communications department for bothering to respond at all. Happy got a lecture from her for stirring them up to do it. The tabloid was simply bating them, looking for more headlines with the name Stark to sell papers and get free advertising when people commented about the story on social media. Pepper's fear was that the rag in question would simply be emboldened to next run a story with the spin that Stark Industries didn't deny she was expecting a child. Whether they would accompany that with claims Tony was actually alive or that Pepper had a new man already remained to be seen. The only certain was that one of the two tales would hit newsstands soon. Either would have the same effect: many cameras and eyes on her everywhere she went for the foreseeable future. She got used to the paparazzi when working for Tony (and could practically ignore them by the time she was married to him), but she grew tired of them (and even times a bit skittish for their aggressive behavior) when she was first pregnant with Morgan and later anytime her daughter was with her in public. That's when she directed Happy to increase the security. On her own, she was fine. With her child, she took fewer chances.

"Happy still have a job?" Tony wondered.

"Of course," she sighed. "I just reminded him that he needs to clear it with me before he turns our public relations department into… something. I don't even remember what I said to him."

She groaned then turned and draped her arms around him and sighed. He held her quietly knowing he wasn't expected to say anything. She was tired and deception stressed her out. She was hiding two secrets (him and a baby) while running one of the most powerful companies in the world during a time of global crisis. He felt terrible he couldn't help her.

He also wasn't pleased Happy had angered her. He supposed it was chauvinistic to want to protect her from anything that made her upset, but that didn't change the urge for him. However, he couldn't find it in him to fault Happy. The guy was doing what he was originally hired to do (and what Tony recently asked him to continue doing): protect. Happy was trying to give Pepper some freedom from an invasive press. He was also trying to deflect any stories that might mention Tony. Whether Happy truly understood or agreed with Tony's wishes to remain a secret didn't matter. He knew what Tony wanted and was doing everything he could to see that it happened. The guy deserved a mid-winter bonus in Tony's book. If he had any access to his finances, he'd have done something about that because Pepper's scowl clearly showed she would not sign off on one.

**oOoOo**

The delays were unthinkable for Ghost.

Weeks of slaving over circuits, threatening programmers, cracking the whip (sometimes literally) on his team of builders finally culminated with mixing the chemical agent needed to wipe out all of them. It really would have been easier just to burn his warehouse to dispose of the bodies, but with all these returned people in jobs again firemen were likely to show up and actually do something about a conflagration. He blamed Tony Stark for all of it and was glad it gave another reason to hate the man. He made life so difficult. Ghost was going to enjoy killing him.

Of course, that could only happen if he got a line where he actually was. Ghost's inside source was no longer useful. Osborne had over-hyped his connections. It was apparent to Ghost that Dr. Tanis was an obliging and spineless sort; that could have been helpful. What it turned out to be was disastrous. The man, who had sold his soul to Osborne and his like during the chaos of the previous five years, had suddenly discovered his conscience again.

Probably got all fan struck when he realized who he was treating, Ghost scoffed. The man was told precisely how to get Tony Stark up and functioning again so that he had no idea about the countdown to his last, painful days. No, instead, Tanis did nothing. His version of do no harm became do no additional harm. The man had panicked, plain and simple. His decision to do nothing was an effort to just have Tony die in the infirmary in relative peace before any of Ghost's plans could be put into motion.

"You should pay for that a lot more than you're going to, Doctor," Ghost muttered to himself as he slipped into his close-fitting silver skin.

Ghost had a brief window from which to execute his termination of their partnership. The man with the metal arm was cagey and didn't keep a regular routine so infiltrating his stronghold in the leprous building unseen would not be easy, but it was not difficult either. A simple distraction down the street—a lovely gas explosion at the abandoned fill-station—would draw attention. While Mr. Lanky Locks of Hair scoped it out, Ghost would slip into the empty building with the bars on the windows and slit the good doctor's throat (but not before getting him to confess where Tony Stark went for Ghost was certain the man was not at Camp Delta any longer). When Tanis's capture returned to the makeshift prison he was running for his hostage, he would find one room was redecorated in a vivid red shade.

**oOoOo**


	20. Chapter 20

**oOoOo**

Bucky had seen carnage in his time. Caused it, too. He'd decimated scenes with weaponry; he'd obliterated his enemies (both during his first life and his second). Still, none of that prepared him for the sticky, wet mess he found back at the apartment building.

There had been an explosion just as dusk arrived. It shook the ground and shattered a few windows, but it was not within the building itself. He swiftly ascertained that then hit the street to figure out where it happened. There were no street cameras in this Podunk town so he wasn't worried about being seen by authorities. He knew there would be dozens of camera phones pointed at the scene. One thing he never got used to in the current age was the desire to run at a catastrophe only to gape at it and record it rather than help. He found the location, a closed gas station a block north of his encampment. How the underground tanks blew was a mystery for the civil authorities to resolve. Bucky was just glad that the only thing that perished was the building seated atop the vacated pumps.

He took a detour on the way back to avoid being seen heading toward an area where no would should reasonably be after dark. He was gone less than 40 minutes, but when he returned he knew instantly something was terribly wrong.

It was the smell. It was stronger than burned petroleum smell in his own clothing. It was fresh and it was coppery. He opened the door to Tanis's room and his eyes met a gruesome sight. Arms and legs ripped asunder. His head was resting on the bed post like a finial. The torso was slashed open and the insides were strewn around the room like confetti.

He wretched as scads of memories of the lives he ended (some from a distance and others up close) flooded his thoughts. His heart raced in his ears as he leaned on the wall for support until the final memory, the one that prompted this crusade, came to mind.

"_Help my wife, please."_

"_Howard!"_

"_Sargent Barnes?"_

He shuddered as the doomed couples' voices echoed in his head. At the time, their words and voices made no impact on him. Years later, when he recovered his memories, they sliced into like a freshly whetted blade. The wife was a stranger to him, but Howard had known him; had recognized him. Hearing his voice on that video played back in Siberia (in front of the doomed couple's only child no less) just drove that blade deeper into his heart.

What was nearly as bad was those memories was that of Steve telling him, after they left Howard's son beaten and bleeding on the floor of the Siberian base, pleading that they shouldn't judge Tony too harshly; that he was just reacting so strongly because he'd never come to terms with his parents' deaths. Bucky had scoffed and wondered how that could be considered a consolation. Even then, when there was someone else suffering, Steve had done his utmost to back Bucky, his friend for eternity.

Seeing the video of what he had done to Howard and his wife was a terrible reminder for Bucky of the weapon he'd been. Worse still was finally coming face-to-face with a victim, a living/breathing/grieving family member who his actions hurt. Bucky had known in his haze at the time of the ambush that he was to kill anyone in the car and leave no witnesses. Meeting the victims' son officially years later (coming face-to-face with Tony during the escape from SHIELD custody didn't count) was a sobering reminder that Bucky carried a dreadful burden he could never fully release. He could do all the good in the world that his remaining days and years would allow, but he could never erase the stain of what his programming made him do.

Looking at the atrocity that was once Dr. Tanis drove that home.

Bucky hung his head then buried his face in his hands. Vengeance was a petty feeling, but even just thinking about it felt good. He'd been a hero once—a Howling Commando, who hunted down pure evil during a colossal war—and that honor was taken from him. Something as evil as Red Skull and Hydra was on the loose again. It was gunning for the Stark family, what remained of it. Bucky vowed he'd spend his last breath ensuring that nothing happened to them. He then turned to the simple trail cam he had installed above the door—a low tech device he bought at a hardware store that ran on regular batteries. Bucky used it normally to keep an eye on the doctor in the evenings. He saw it was still intact. He didn't care to see the actual dismemberment of his prisoner, but he wanted to see the face of the man who had done this.

What he got instead was five minutes of angry, unhinged monologuing from the perpetrator through his silver body condom. Most of his rambling made no sense as he talked about resurrections and needing to question a dead man. At the end, he gave a cackle worthy only of a villain in a really bad Saturday afternoon matinee then mentioned eradicating his partner and leaving him to the churning surf off a spot he called Point Dume. With a shrug and nowhere else to turn, Bucky typed those words into his phone to see what the internet could tell him about it.

"Fuck," he gasped as the top result was a split screen picture showing an older aerial photo of a circular mansion on a seaside cliff and the more recent shot of the decimated crater that resided in its place now. "You hid it there, Stark? Guess I get to see California finally."

**oOoOo**

Hill spent the night and part of the next day writing her reports on Osborne (the assignment taken from her) and Parker (the babysitting job given to her instead). Fury wanted both. He wanted them detailed and ready for him by the next morning. She did her best, something she feared Fury no longer believed she had, and churned out pages of assessments and summaries. Coulson was taking over the Osborne assignment. That didn't bother Hill. Coulson was a good agent and was ready to hold her former position as a deputy director of operations for the organization.

The Parker issue, however, irritated her. The kid sat in front of her and lied. He wasn't good at it. He wasn't smooth or convincing. He was nervous and sullen. A little angry, too, but she wasn't sure how much of that was actual emotion and how much was just pain from nearly choking of hot pizza that burned his mouth. She wondered how he'd ever impressed Stark enough to allow him to tag along. Granted, the kid had physical skills, but he also had every awkward teenage quirk of a John Hughes film. All reports stated Stark had trusted the kid and saw something in him of value beyond agility and strength.

_Whatever that was_, she sighed, _Stark took that secret to his gave_.

"Am I boring you, Commander Hill?" Fury asked as he scrolled through her report.

"No, sir," she sat up straighter. "I was just mulling the many questions I've got."

"I've found mulling unproductive," he replied flatly. "Investigating and finding answers has always been my preferred course of action."

She nodded, taking the scolding well. She'd failed him. Again. It had been harder for her to adjust to missing five years of her life. She didn't know how it was for others. She simply had felt a sickly tingle in her body then watching in horror as her hand disintegrated and her mind grew eerily cloudy. Then in a disorienting blink, she found herself standing in the same spot but the sky was different; the air was cooler; and nothing around her looked the way it had just moments earlier. She was still piecing together what it meant to be a returned person and found her head jumbled with thoughts and emotions often. She'd gone to Stark's funeral, not because she was especially close to him but because she respected him for what he had done. She appreciated Pepper, having worked for her until Tony fired Hill after his fall out with Captain American following the Sovokia Accords. Hill considered it both personal and honor that she was the only staffer Stark Industries staffer Tony Stark had ever personally fired. Rumors held that he did so over the objections of Pepper Potts, but the couple was on a break at that time so whether the woman's opinion mattered to him was not certain; further, Pepper ran the company, but Tony owned it.

Regardless of who agreed with his actions or sanctioned them, there was no way for Hill to read her dismissal as anything other than personal. Tony did not cut his ties to the Avengers. He returned to the palatial compound he erected for them on a 100 square acre plot he owned in upstate New York. He remained on site for several months, working primarily with Colonel Rhodes to perfect the man's exo-skeleton to speed the paralyzed man's rehabilitation. Hill also worked out of that facility at that time, but did not cross into the actual living quarters. As he was merely concerned with Rhodes, he and Hill never crossed paths again.

"This is a lot of supposition and theory," Fury remarked as he looked up from her report. "What's your gut tell you? What do you think is going on?"

"It's possible Parker is running an op on his own, but it doesn't sit right with me," Hill said. "I didn't push the other night. We were in a public place. I think we should just bring him in."

Fury scoffed and shook his head. He hadn't been fooled by a teenage mutant. The kid was not suddenly joining the ranks of super spies. He was looking for something to keep his mind of his sorrow. Kids like him wanted to make a difference and help people. Whenever they used deception to do that, it always came off looking way more sinister than it was. He was doing someone a favor, of that Fury was certain. Hill was grasping at straws. She was still smarting after learning Fury hadn't trusted her with something big.

That knowledge took her off her A-game because she still didn't know what it was and it was eating at her. Fury knew that and he thought it unfortunate, but the Stark secret was too volatile to share. Too many people knew as it was. Until they knew how he was among them again, only family and those directly involved in keeping him alive (whether medically or through security) were to know. Hill was just going to have to buck up and remember why she was an agent. She'd twice had her cover blown—once by Barnes when he freakishly happened to see her in a coffee shop meeting with Osborne on Fury's orders, and later by Parker, whose appearance in the puzzle necessitated taking Hill off the assignment. Coulson was off the bench for this one now. The man was glad to be a part of it. He'd always appreciated Stark's value and even genuinely liked the guy. Learning he was alive made him both happy and even more motivated than normal. He was currently on his way to trail Osborne to California.

"I think Peter Parker is bored and doesn't trust you," Fury said. "That second part is my problem."

"A bored, teenage superhero with Stark tech at his fingertips spying on a former Hydra supporter isn't the biggest issue?" Hill asked. "What am I missing here, and why aren't you letting me in?"

"My answers are: _a lot_ and _because_," Fury replied. "Right now, I need you to find out why a kid who was so eager to be an Avenger just before he dusted suddenly doesn't trust the support teams for the Avengers. I don't think he's playing for the opposing team, but think he suspects that maybe we do. I need to know why. Get to the bottom of it, Hill. Don't mess up this one."

**oOoOo**

The weather remained cold, but the sun had the decency to shine brightly as the winter reached its halfway mark. Tony had a visitor that day. Happy had taken an afternoon off to come up to the house while playing messenger. Pepper's birthday (which Tony had not forgotten… exactly) had passed. Tony wanted to make up for that. He just had to get creative for how to obtain a gift for her when he wasn't permitted to leave the lake, couldn't get a delivery, couldn't contact anyone else in the outside world, and technically had no access to money. Normally, on her birthday, he took her somewhere. They'd been to Venice, Hong Kong, Sydney, Barcelona, and Paris over the years. He wanted to do that again, but being trapped for his own safety left him with many restrictions and drawbacks. He had been working on a robot (several actually) to make up for her lack of a gift, but he wasn't sure she would fully appreciate those. She was never overly enamored with his mechanical creations.

So it was Happy to the rescue, in part thanks to Harley. Tony was feeling exceptional scattered in recent weeks, hopping from one project to another. He didn't feel inspired by any of them for long. He felt aimless, and that was never good for him. He needed a goal and until he found it, his life would feel out of his control. In order to give it some semblance of order, Tony put Harley on the task of cleaning up his private server. There were countless voided files, replicated data, and empty sectors taking up space needlessly. Cyber cleaning seemed like a good task for an intern.

That's how Harley happened across an inventory for one of Tony's storage vaults.

The one in question held a lot of the art Pepper had purchased over the years. Tony never looked at any of it. She liked it. He let her buy it when she worked for him. He then stored it. It kept her happy. He had forgotten about most of it until Harley brought it to his attention along with some serial numbers for what appeared to be locked boxes in the vault. Reviewing those resulted in a discovery Tony wasn't aware he'd owned all of his adult life: his mother's jewelry.

His father had been a frequent source of irritation for his mother, which was not to say she didn't adore him. Maria Stark had more patience for Howard than Tony ever did. Howard showed his appreciation for her understanding with expensive gifts. One of them was a diamond tennis bracelet style watch made by Cartier. It was simple and elegant, like Pepper herself. It was also Tony's to do with as he pleased so he sent Happy to retrieve it then deliver to him.

Happy had done so gratefully then spent the afternoon playing babysitter and listening to Morgan give him a piano recital while Tony worked in the garage with Harley. Tony happened to be alone out there while Harley ran into town to grab a late lunch. Tony sat looking at the dainty and sparkling watch he held in his fingertips when FRIDAY let him know Pepper was calling him. Tony queued the speaker as he grinned.

"Is this going to be a lewd phone call?" Tony asked eagerly.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Pepper said. "I'm just calling to check in like I said I would. My appointment this afternoon went fine. Everything looks good so far. All development is on schedule."

"Sorry I couldn't be there again," Tony said genuinely contrite about it.

"I know," she replied. "Since you couldn't be, I have something to share with you when I'm home."

"What?"

"It's a surprise," she said.

"What is it?"

"If I tell you, it wouldn't be a surprise," she pointed out.

"I know," Tony said. "What is it?"

She sighed and groaned letting him know he was getting the head shake of weary frustration.

"You're just going to keep that up until I tell you," Pepper sighed mostly to herself.

"Yes," he agreed readily. "What is it?"

She paused for a moment then told him she had emailed a file to him. It flashed on his monitor a split second later. He opened it to find a .wav file that he opened. The sound was fast and throbbing but regular and vital.

"Is that…?" he began.

"That's his heart beat," Pepper said warmly.

"His?"

"You were finally right," she sniffed. "It's a boy. We waited to find out with Morgan until she was born, and frankly you were as annoying as a swarm of gnats about it. So I thought this time, with everything else going on, that I would save my sanity and just find out. I'm sending you the sonogram pictures now."

Tony opened those as they arrived and looked at the 3D image of the tiny person residing within her womb. The features were small and a bit alien like, but Tony felt his own heart quicken due to something other than his messed up electromagnetic pulses. His breath hitched in his chest, and he caught himself grinning was he stared.

"Wow," he managed a word.

"Don't mistake the cord for…," she began.

"I'm familiar with human biology, Pep," he said. "You okay with him not being another girl?"

"I was going to be happy no matter what," she assured him. "I was relieved to hear that he, like you, is doing fine. It's almost time for your vitals and your inhaler. Don't forget those."

"FRIDAY would snitch to you if I did," Tony grumbled but rolled his chair backward to grab the monitoring cuff and slid it onto his arm. "Oh, Bruce sent me a message. He wants to do my blood work early next week, but that's because of his schedule, not because of anything with me. You can call him and verify if you don't believe me."

"You automatically assume I'm going to think you're not telling me something," Pepper said. "I think I've finally trained you."

Tony growled, but let her have the jab. He'd earned it. She'd eat her discouraging assessment that night when she got home and found he brought her diamonds. He nodded silently at his impending victory as he became aware that Harley was back and in the lab already.

"I gotta go," Tony said. "The intern is finally back from his two hour lunch hour. You're home around 6?"

"Before that actually, but I'll be taking the west coast call from home so I'll still be working," she said as she stifled a yawn. "They pushed back the teleconference so I decided to come home for it since we can't start until 7 o'clock our time."

"You know, you're in charge," Tony reminded her. "They need to accommodate you."

"Yes, but a previous CEO kept his own hours and drove them nuts," she replied. "I find they are a happier workforce when there's predictability in their daily schedules."

She disconnected after the tart reminder of his inability to stick to firm schedules. He shrugged it off and reminded himself he was the one holding diamonds that night. He spun slowly in his chair as he watched the light on the monitor on his arm turn green signaling his bio data had transmitted successfully. Harley cut his eyes at Tony carefully.

"Nice of you to return," Tony said.

"I'm just 20 minutes late," he replied. "I was talking to one of my professors on the phone while I tried to eat. I'm still taking two classes on line this semester. I was up at 6 this morning to take a two-hour online exam then rushed here and got in early."

"So you admit to being late from lunch?"

Harley scoffed as he grinned and shook his head. Tony liked human chew toys to play with to see how they would react. It was his version of experimenting and learning about people rather than just talking to them like a normal person would.

"I heard you talking to Pepper," Harley noted.

He hadn't seen her recently except as they passed each other in cars along the long, winding driveway. Tony had been oddly tense, not just his typical anxiety fueled or frustration prompted tense either. Having heard what he did, Harley understood better.

"Maybe," Tony said. "My phone conversations are private."

"Then you shouldn't have them over speakerphone," Harley pointed out. "Did I hear her right? You're having a baby?"

"No," Tony replied. "Pepper is. It's fairly visibly obvious now, but it's still not for sharing with anyone."

Harley huffed as he tried to think who he would even tell. The only people he talked to were Tony and Morgan most days. Occasionally, he'd have brief conversation with the guy at the coffee shop who took his order in the mornings or the girl at the checkout counter in the small supermarket. He spoke to his mother every few days on the phone, but telling her would make no sense as she believed Tony was dead. Harley's sister wasn't currently talking to him, but she was at least living at home again.

"So, a baby, huh?" he said. "Congratulations. You get to be a dad again. That's great, but, um, isn't it gonna make people wonder about Pepper? I mean, she's having a baby when everyone thinks you're dead. That's gonna start rumors."

Tony scoffed. Harley was his barometer for the outside world in recent weeks. He had the average person's point of view down solidly. His words confirmed what both Tony and Pepper were worried would happen.

"Probably," Tony said.

"Aren't you going to do anything about that?" Harley asked. "She's your wife. You're the father. You could end all the rumors pretty easily."

"Maybe," he said then turned back to his computer where he was working on a new configuration that would allow his new bot's to have greater dexterity on their distal appendages.

Harley cleared his throat feeling like he'd tread too closely to something forbidden, but it raised another concern in his mind. He'd held the worry since the first day he arrived at the house and found countless excuses to ignore the knot in his chest and the questions brewing in his mind. He decided this was as good a time as any to seek answers.

"Are you gonna be better by the time the baby's born?" he asked in a voice that was more afraid of the answer than he was of Tony's reaction.

He expected, and received, the patented Stark cold glare. What he didn't expect was the nearly simultaneous slumping of shoulders and angry expression melting into defeated resignation.

"That's the plan," Tony said simply. "How did you know?"

"Tony, I'm not blind," he said. "You drink that green, gross stuff that I read you needed when you had reactor poisoning. Then there's that IV catheter I can see under your shirt. My uncle had one of those when he had cancer so they could give him his medicine easily. Is that what's wrong with you? Do you have cancer?"

"No."

"Is it a disease like cancer?" Harley asked.

"Not exactly."

"Is it from something Thanos did to you?" he persisted.

"I don't know," Tony answered.

"Is it contagious?"

"No," Tony said testily. "Wow. I forgot you talk a lot and ask questions that you shouldn't."

"Yeah, and you get irritated easily and flip out sometimes," Harley offered. "It's how we work."

"Interns are supposed to learn silently," Tony grumbled.

"You knew what you were getting when you asked—no, actually, you ordered me—to be here," the teen pointed out.

"Sass is not a good way to impress the boss," Tony noted. "I can fire you."

"I'm an intern, not an employee," he shrugged.

"Then I can send you home and tell your mother you failed out of college," Tony countered.

"You're not alive according to the rest of the world so that's gonna be hard," Harley folded his arms victoriously.

Tony glared at his intern's confident, smiling face.

"I'll send Happy."

That did it. Harley's grin vanished from his lips at least, but it lingered in his eyes. He had the good graces to step back and hold up his hands in mock surrender to cut the tension brewing in the room.

"Did you finish designing that swivel joint so I can actually build it, or do you want me to look into the rest of those directories while you dawdle?" he asked pivoting to their work.

"Dawdle?" Tony repeated.

"I could have said make sappy goo-goo eyes at that sonogram picture of your son," Harley smirked. "Dawdle sounded a little less apt to…"

"Get you fired?" Tony offered and received a contrite grinning nod in response. "I'm still assessing abduction stress ratios on the elbow joint. It's technical and complicated and far beyond the talents of a guy who failed analytical geometry at Tulane."

Harley scoffed as Tony turned his back and returned to his station.

"Hey," the student argued, "I didn't fail. I have an incomplete."

"What passing grade did you get?" Tony questioned

"None," Harley groaned.

"So if it's not a pass, what is it again?"

Harley shook his head. Tony's grading scale was obviously geared to getting him what he wanted, in this case, hammering home a point he'd made about 12,000 times to Harley already. Either he passed or it was considered a fail. There were no halfway measures acceptable to Tony Stark. Incompletes were failures. Harley was okay with the persistent reminders from Tony, but he had to fight the urge to point to the half dozen projects Tony had going at any time and ask how many of them were considered passing rather than incomplete. The only thing that kept him from actually saying that was his sense that Tony was bothered by something (possibly his illness) and fighting some inner battle he wasn't sure he was winning.

"I hope you get better soon," he said plainly but with sincerity that earned him a grateful nod.

"Thanks," Tony replied as he concentrated on the design in front of him again.

Harley let his eyes linger on his mentor. Tony's eyes were narrowed, and he was chewing his lip while deep in thought, shutting out the world's distractions and everything in his mind that troubled him. Harley had never been a religious person. His grandmother had been, but she was also a little crazy and thought God spoke to her through her cats. Still, since getting the message that Tony was alive, he'd taken to saying a little thank you to any power in the universe who'd had a hand in saving him. The world was a better (if slightly chaotic) place with him in it. Unlike most of the public, Harley didn't prefer the legend that was Iron Man. He preferred his friend, Tony the mechanic. Working for him, learning from him, was a gift in itself. For that reason, he tried to do everything Tony assigned him to the best of his abilities, even if it was something as dull as reviewing old computer files.

He turned to his monitor and dove into them again. Having learned some of the odd naming conventions present in the system, he was fairly certain everything with AES in the file names (Tony's initials) would turn out to be personal stuff of Tony's that someone uploaded ages ago (like his art collection and the catalog of stuff he inherited from his parents). Reviewing those would be a simple project for an afternoon. Harley scrolled through them, finding purchase orders for car parts, airplanes, helicopters, and other conveyances from decades ago that must have belonged to Tony's father that (like the records) passed to him when he inherited everything.

During that review, Harley hit on a similar file range with but with the letters "ae-s" in the name. It could easily be dismissed as a simple typo, but he flagged those for closer scrutiny after opening one and seeing a name that sounded like it must be one of Howard Stark's business partners.

The name at the top of the file was the _Abraham Erskine-Stark Protocol_.

**oOoOo**


	21. Chapter 21

**oOoOo**

Banner stared at the results on his screen after refreshing the tests four times. There was no doubt. The numbers came back identical each time. He'd recalibrated the machines, checked the software, and even reloaded the samples to be sure.

His miracle for Tony was failing.

His patient might claim he was feeling better. It might even be true. For now.

The dysprosium was saturated in his system, but Tony's cells were beginning to degrade again, according to the latest round of blood work. This was the outcome Banner had feared all along. Entropy—whether due to a cascade failure event from colliding realities or from some other unexplored possibility—could not be stopped. The problem was deeper than the cells. It was, as Tony himself had said, into the quarks, the subatomic particles carrying a fractional electric charge that essentially made up the pieces of an atom. The problem was too deep for medicine to stop or cure.

Tony was going to die.

Again.

The question was when. Banner didn't hold out hope of a slow process that could be delayed and halted for a few years so that science might come up with new answers or even to buy his family extra time with him. The degradation happened at an exponential rate. It would begin speeding up to noticeable levels in a few weeks; a month or so after that, it would reach critical levels. Tony would never see Morgan's first day of kindergarten. It was even possible he'd never see his son born.

That pained Banner. Tony could be a handful, but all that irreverent behavior and those whiplash turns of conversation somehow turned into enviable charm when he was with his daughter. He was a brilliant engineer and physicist, rightfully dubbed the Michelangelo of the Modern Age; he was a fierce fighter who earned his right to be called a superhero by first suffering at the hands of terrorists and fighting his way out of it then by sacrificing himself (whatever version of him) to save the universe.

It was a cheap shot by the universe to have his just reward of resurrection snatched back.

Banner, a man more familiar with snarling and fists when it came to emotion, pulled off his glasses as his eyes flooded. Tears cascaded down his face, which is how Rhodes found him when he entered the lab.

"Hey," the Air Force colonel jostled his shoulder. "What's going on?"

The doctor forced a breath down his throat then grounded the heels of his hands into his eyes and blinked them clear while shaking his head.

"Don't give me the nothing answer," Rhodes said. "You're a mess. What happened?"

Banner shook his head again as he replaced his glasses. He wasn't permitted to say. The results were Tony's, and he deserved to know before others. It was no one else's business unless he chose to make it that way. Banner held doubts about whether Tony would tell Pepper. There was an argument to be made that leaving her in the dark was compassionate given her condition; letting her make it through most (hopefully all) of the pregnancy without worrying about the inevitable end of Tony's life swiftly approaching was considerate in a way. Of course, just as their child greeted the world (or soon after), she would find herself alone again to raise her family and (in all likelihood) bury her newborn not long after that. It was heartbreaking even to a stoic like Banner who didn't believe in happy endings.

"You think the world, the universe, has a purpose and a plan?" he asked Rhodes. "I never used to ask those questions but… Why? To any of it, just why?"

"I don't know man," Rhodes shook his head. "I'm just here to deliver a message. Fury got word from Danvers."

"Captain Marvel?" he asked refusing to let himself feel even a spark of hope.

"Yeah, she's tied up trying to put order back to everything else out there so we won't see her anytime soon," Rhodes said. "She did offer to get word to Peter Quill and Thor. If they know anything or anyone who can help, we should hear something. Fury let it be known that the problem involves Tony. He didn't say how it involves him, but he at least used his name. That'll get Thor's interest. Nebula's, too. Whether Quill will join in, I couldn't say. He's got his own worries, I guess."

Banner nodded and shut down his computer as he caught Rhodes looking at the charts and data. He thanked him for the message. It didn't actually bring him any hope. He slunk out of the room with his shoulders rounded and his chin down to his chest while thinking it was time for the green rage monster to make a triumphant return and hit things to give Bruce a break from the world.

Rhodes watched him leave with a sense of trepidation. He'd seen graphs on the screen. There were numbers in red and a chat showing a sharp downward trajectory of something. He was a pilot. Red lines crashing into anything were not good. Seeing Banner sobbing was also a fear sign. What made it all worse was the few lines of text Rhodes saw on the screen before they were turned off: _Tony Stark—Blood Analysis_.

**oOoOo**

The sun was bright. There was a burning, white quality to it as well that matched well with the heat of the day. Roughly a mile from the road he sought, Bucky ditched the car he stole from the parking lot in North Hollywood. The trip across the country was simpler than he thought, and that was disheartening. Like Osborne, there were more than a few of Hydra's contractors still kicking around. All they needed was a stern stare and a few of the right words from Bucky and suddenly transportation and money were his for the taking. He figured it wasn't really a crime to tap those resources. Everything they gifted him was something they couldn't use for a nefarious purpose.

Besides, he wasn't Steve. Ethics for Bucky were situational. Stealing a car? Generally a bad thing. Swiftly obtaining a vehicle to intercept a merciless businessman hell-bent on obtaining a secret formula to create unstoppable soldiers for whoever was willing to pay the highest price? Roughly the equivalent of jaywalking.

He hiked over the rocky terrain to the highest point on the bluff. It was a majestic spot. The land was once owned by Howard then inherited by his son, who chose to build some futuristic circular structure that probably shouldn't have been hanging off a cliff in the first place. Bucky nodded at the bald crest of the outcropping and saw the damage the missiles fired at the spot had done years earlier. There was a sign citing it was private property and monitored by security, but he doubted the boast. There was a car in what was at one time the driveway. He approached and touched the hood. It was warmed by the sun only. The windows were open and from the dampness he felt on the seat, the windows had been open for some time, possibly even during the storm that rolled through the region hours earlier delaying the landing of the private plane shuttling Bucky to the area. His nerves tingled at the discovery.

He had come armed only with a telescoping baton. The silver psycho could easily do his shimmering thing and let a bullet pass through him; that would leave a bullet fired in his direction to embed itself into whatever was behind him. That was a risk Bucky was not willing to take.

He looked around the abandoned site and found retractable doors in the ground. They were not fully sealed. It took little effort to pry one fully. He descended into the hole below and found it was less of a cavern and more of a garage. There were smooth concrete walls and matching floor. A trail of chem lights littered the floor giving the room an eerie green glow. The space smelled dank, like it had not been open to the air for some time. He followed the lights to find the space empty of everything except dust and chunks of crumbled concrete. In the center of the space, there was another hole to a separate sub-level.

As he bent down to look into it, a shape on the floor just beyond the lights caught his attention.

Osborne.

He was lying face up… or his head was face up. The rest of his body was several feet away, like his head had been sliced off and sent rolling to its final resting spot. As Bucky stared, he heard the slightest scuff of a foot on the concrete. He spun around in time to see the flashes from a muzzle pierce the darkness before he fell backward. Both his back and chest felt suddenly wet. He could taste blood in his mouth and hear the air he couldn't breathe hissing from the holes in his chest. His skin felt cold, and the room grew dark.

**oOoOo**

Regardless of how difficult it was to find the words, Banner needed to talk to Tony. He needed to do it soon. The quicker the guy knew the truth, the more time he would have to make some decisions. Banner just hated that he had to be the one putting Tony in that place. He arrived at the lake house mid-morning the day after he did his last and final assessment of the test results.

For Tony's sake, so he could process the results, Banner waited to arrive after Pepper would be gone for the day. He didn't want to get in between the couple when it came to disclosing medical issues, but he also knew it was Tony's call what he would tell Pepper and when. So, Banner entered the garage, amazed yet again that from the simple structure on the outside it could contain such an amazing technological wonder inside. The space was open, bright, and filled with synthesizing machines, calibration machines, computers, and sensors for holographic projections. It was a scientist's dream, tucked behind a place to park cars as though it was just a hobby spot.

He entered to see only Harley hunched over a computer. Beside him sat an extremely large cup of coffee next to an impressive stack of donuts and a large bowl of colorful candy.

"Um, you're Harley Keener, right?" Banner asked as he stepped into the lab. "I'm…"

"Bruce Banner!" he shouted and hopped off his chair then charged forward with his hand outstretched. "Wow! Oh my god! This is so cool!"

Banner opened his mouth to respond but found he didn't get the opportunity as the college student began rattling off all the things he thought were cool about Banner/Hulk and how he'd followed him in the news for years. The guy was a fan that was evident. Banner merely nodded and waited for Tony's intern to run out of steam.

"Yeah, thanks, I think," Banner said a bit uncomfortable with hearing his biography recited to him (complete with some sound effects involving in smashing things). "Tony told me you've been helping him out here. Where is he?"

Morgan, it seemed, had a cold. She was being kept in the house. Tony was taking a day off from his various projects for the day to stay with her there.

"If you really need to talk to him, just head inside," Harley said. "But if it's not important, you might want to put it off. Anything that isn't what Morgan needs right now isn't going to get 10 seconds of his attention. I guess she was up coughing most of the night. Tony sat with her so Pepper could rest. He's extra grouchy because he didn't sleep."

"You two get into something today?" Banner asked.

"You mean did he come out here, growl at me, rip my head off for no reason when I arrived then go back to the house without apologizing?" Harley grinned then shrugged. "Of course. He forgets that people aren't robots sometimes."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No, not from Tony," the college student shook his head. "I've known him for years. I know what this is. He's just stressed out. When that happens, he spazzes out. He doesn't mean what he says so I never take it personally. About half an hour after he yelled at me, he sent me a text to go to the store to pick up an order. It was cough syrup for Morgan and this for me."

He gestured to the sugar pile beside the keyboard proudly.

"A diabetic coma?" Banner surmised.

"Tony introduced me to the importance of sugar overload and maximum caffeine intake years ago," Harley explained. "Basically, if you can still see straight without seeing completely double and your hands aren't shaking but you feel like you could levitate things with your mind, you're good. You can go for like 32 hours without a real meal or sleeping that way and still get work done."

"That really doesn't sound healthy," Banner shook his head.

"Health isn't a priority in engineering school," Harley said. "Trust me. This is the best option when you realize the other choices are fall behind and fail or snort Adderall like the other guys do. I agree with Tony that the caffeine and sugar push is the wise choice so I follow my mentor's sage guidance."

As he spoke, he took a huge bite of a frosted donut covered in sprinkles then swigged deeply from his coffee. Banner grimaced. He'd heard about Tony's extreme sleep deprivation periods, and while no one could argue that he wasn't exceedingly creative and inventive during those periods, there was no way to consider them wise, healthy, or safe. Passing along those lessons also didn't sound like a good idea, but Banner wasn't there to lecture. He also didn't think it a good time to drop the news on Tony about his own health if all he cared about was Morgan's cold when he needed to make some important decisions.

"I'll come by tomorrow," Banner said as he turned toward the door.

"Hey, Dr. Banner," Harley stopped him, "can you look at something for me? I was going to throw it into the folder for Tony to look at if it's something he should see, but with him being a head case right now, I'd rather not waste his time if it's nothing."

Banner peered at the screen as Harley pulled up the mysterious "ae-s" file. The intern explained that mechanical engineering was his thing not chemical. He was an average student in chemistry, but he was more focused on metallurgical aspects. What he found in that directory was nothing to do with metals. Banner glanced at first then his eyes widened. There was a lot of code at the top of the file that nearly put him off until he realized that was probably the point. Midway into the contents of the file, a formula appeared. His pulse quickened.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Tony's got a lot of crap on his server," Harley explained. "He's making me do a first round of spring cleaning. I'm not deleting anything. I'm just organizing stuff under certain directory headings he prefers. Apparently, when he moved from the west coast years ago he also opened a new server farm for all of his files. The data transfer was handled by someone at Stark and the guy screwed it up. Or I should say, he did it his way, not the way Tony wanted it done. Files got jumbled. Tony got all his work for the last decade or so sorted out, but the rest of this was really old stuff so he never got around to checking it. Some of these file are so old they're in a computer language I had to look up; they're like from the 1980s. Some of it's just old stock reports of his father's and stuff like that. I just didn't know if this was something I should flag for him. You're a chemistry guy. What do you think?"

Banner's eyes raced across the screen, pulling chunks of data out as his heart hammered faster. He pressed a trembling hand to his mouth then stroked his chin. It was Erskine's formula. He had no doubt. From the notes he could dissect within the code, Tony's father had spent 50 years working with the results of a single vial of Steve Rogers' blood and was able to recreate the formula. A horrible but unavoidable thought arced through Banner's mind. Deception was never in his repertoire previously, but he'd also never been in a bind like this.

_It's the only way_, he told himself. _Apologize to him after you save him. If he hates you for it, at least he'll be alive to do that._

"Uh, this looks like incomplete work," Banner said in a forcefully calm voice. "I don't think it's anything to bother Tony with for now." He scrambled for how to pull off what he needed to do next and his eyes fell on the stack of donuts and coffee. "You know, I can't let you do this to yourself. Here, go back to town and get yourself a salad or a sandwich or some soup for lunch. Your kidneys are going to go on strike if you keep doing this to them."

He handed Harley a $20 bill. Banner didn't have much money to spare, but what was in front of him was worth more than the contents of his wallet times 1,000. Harley took the money and didn't need a nudge. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Banner made to follow him and even walked to his car as Harley pulled away. He then snuck back into the lab and emailed the file to himself. Natasha's notes on Tony indicated he found the cure for his palladium poisoning in his father's records years earlier.

"Tony, I think your dad just saved you again," he remarked.

**oOoOo**

It was a cold.

Pepper was pretty clear this was not something to cause concern. Tony trusted her experience. She'd been a parent way longer than he had, but this was Morgan. A virus had invaded her body. He thought there should be a scan of some sort to pinpoint the microscopic terrorist and some pulse that could be targeted to annihilate it so that it couldn't continue to replicate.

What he was told instead was to sit on the couch with her, make sure she had plenty of fluids during the day, feed her lunch like normal, and don't let her wipe her nose on her sleeve.

Those hardly sounded like the type of aggressive approach Tony felt this situation required, but he was left without any other viable options. When Harley returned with the herbal cough medicine Pepper ordered, Tony planted himself on the couch with Morgan. They read books and watched a movie before she fell asleep. Pepper called at about that time and told him to leave the child be to rest unencumbered by his persistently anxious stare. He didn't think it wise, but he obeyed that order (after attaching Pepper's Colantotte bracelet to Morgan's wrist so FRIDAY could monitor her vitals for him). He then went to the next room to log into his server and see what Harley had managed to do that day.

He'd yelled Harley earlier. Tony wasn't mad. He was tired. He was worried. He was irritated. The tired and mad could be cured with sleep and maybe a meal that didn't taste like he licked the floor of the garage after machining parts for armor. The irritated was a different issue. That was due to feeling his confinement again. He never liked feeling trapped. It was an odd sensation, feeling claustrophobic when his boundaries were five square miles apart. He finally understood Wanda's indignation about confining her to the compound years earlier.

With a growl of frustration, he accessed his private server. Weary fingers then sent him to the wrong sector. As he began to back out, he noted that a directory that should have been dormant for five years had a run date on it from just days earlier. His jaw hardened, and he thought some terrible things about Harley for a moment. He was supposed to be code locked from accessing anything to do with the Avengers that resided on Tony's private server. After a moment of reviewing the files, he knew Harley was off the hook. The origin of the run times were from an exterior the source.

"Pete, just what the hell have you been doing?" Tony muttered darkly as he viewed the recent activity for the AI previously assigned to the tech he gifted to the teen.

Tony viewed the files with his mood growing hotter. His head ached and actual fire felt like it burned under his skin. When FRIDAY informed him it was time to transmit his vitals, he did so still glaring at the computer screen and gnashing his teeth. The kid was active—using tech to track someone who was, conservatively, bat shit crazy and plotting to attack someone. That prompted Tony to make a hushed but angry call to Rhodes while Morgan slept. Rhodes claimed he knew nothing about any operations involving Peter. As far as he knew, the kid was just muddling through high school. Everyone else was running around picking up fugitives.

Tony forwarded the recorded video on the server to Rhodes and asked him to look into it.

"Don't worry about this, Tones," Rhodes said in a voice much more compassionate voice than he'd used when speaking to Tony since he first woke up at the base. He'd even called him by a nickname he hadn't used since his return. "We'll handle it. You just take care of you."

"I don't understand," Tony replied. "Were you recently hit in the head with something hard, or are you trying to send me some signal that you're in trouble? This sudden niceness is throwing me off."

"Neither," Rhodes scoffed but smarted from the observation; he'd been rough on Tony but since seeing the test results on Banner's computer, it looked like there might not be a lot of time to put things right if Rhodes let his lingering confusion and grief issues get in the way any longer. "I'm just saying, we got this. We'll see what the kid is up to and make sure it's nothing he can't handle."

"He can't handle anything solo," Tony insisted. "He's a kid, Rhodey. He shouldn't be doing anything other than homework and cheerleaders."

"You'd make a great guidance counselor," Rhodes chuckled. "Just chill. I'll handle this. You just take it easy. Okay?"

**oOoOo**

Rhodes' sudden about-face in being reasonable when talking to Tony was worrisome. It just made Tony more curious (and slightly more anxious). When Pepper came home, he went out to the garage on the pretense of checking on what Harley did that day and see if he cleaned up the mess he often made at his work station.

Instead, he dismissed Harley early then dug into the server. He looked at the data for the one person allowed access to those programs (and who was only allowed access in theory because he was SUPPOSED TO BE JUST A STUDENT): Peter. According to the call log, the kid was contacting a prepaid cell phone that was purchased with cash in a store that didn't have security cameras or traffic cameras in the vicinity. The calls were several minutes long and the number never called Peter back. Everything about it looked suspicious. Tony began wondering if Rhodes was just distracting him with promises of looking into the matter. Tony only abandoned that thought when he decided it was paranoid. Rhodes wasn't Fury. Sure, he'd been a bit of a dick to Tony, but that was because he was looking out for Pepper. Tony couldn't fault his friend for that. He appreciated it even if the urge to hit the guy with a repulsor pulse lately was strong at times.

After more time passed than he originally intended, Tony came in from the garage. He found Pepper sitting on the couch working on a tablet with a pensive expression. Despite the cold bite of the late March wind, the sun was still visible in the sky as evidence they were slowly leaving the cold and bitter season behind. The fire warmed the house as Morgan, who was now up and about like she'd never had a sniffle, played the piano in what sounded to Tony like her own composition. There were measures from Chopin, Sondheim, and (he thought maybe) Led Zeppelin in the mishmash. It needed work, but at least it wasn't predictable. He nodded appreciatively at it.

"I didn't know we were getting a concert," he said taking a seat next to Pepper. "Thanks for saving me a seat. What are you doing?"

"Working," she replied flatly as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You're frozen."

"And you're roasting," he noted placing a palm on her generously rounded belly as he snuggled closer for a warmer greeting.

"Maybe if you came in when we called you," she said resisting his overtures. "That's three times in the last two weeks, Tony. We have a rule about everyone being present for dinner, remember? Harley left two hours ago."

He didn't bother to argue. She was right. He had missed the meal—and only partly because her tofu menu just wouldn't sit well with him. The metallic taste of all his meals had not subsided as Banner promised. The chlorophyll was only having marginal results. The ringing was returning to his ears and the head rushes were making a comeback, but he was attributing them to his occasional starvation periods. It was easier to hide that from Pepper if he wasn't at the table pushing food he couldn't bear to taste around his plate.

"You're in a mood," he observed without moving his position. "This is not all about me being late. If you wanted me in here, you could have summoned me. What else is going on?"

That week they'd dealt with a new wave of tabloid press. This one accused Pepper of sleeping with one the Avengers. It didn't name the culprit, but there were insinuations the affair was going on prior to the battle with Thanos. As a result, the story claimed, one of Tony's teammates had let him die at Pepper's request so they could be together. It was laughable, and most of the press on it was backlash at the rag that printed such a slanderous and outrageous story, but it hit on the day of the Board meeting. Pepper did not engage in conversation about her personal life during those meetings, but her present condition was an elephant in the Board room. The tension it created tied her in knots and left her with a crushing headache that stole her sleep and left her grouchy for days afterward.

Or so Tony decided. It was possible, he supposed, that being pregnant just left her irritated at times. He figured it was wisest not to ask, but his lack of inquiry did not result in a lack of information. Pepper filled in the gap for him.

"Something happened today with the Board in the development overview for the next fiscal quarter," she said in a clipped voice then sighed. "I wasn't sure how to tell you so I'm just going to say it and be done with it: DeLeer. There."

Tony clenched his jaw. He couldn't hazard a guess at what the man had done this time, but he was certain it involved jockeying for position within the company while pandering to the Board. In his silence, Pepper explained that DeLeer had pitched an idea to the Board about taking a government contract that they favored and also gained their recommendation he be the one to lead a delegation to the components factor in Germany at the end of April.

"What department is the contract with?" Tony asked. "Interior? Energy?"

She sighed and looked at him with a softer expression as she answered.

"The Defense Department," she said then quickly put a finger to his lips to keep him from snarling or shouting. "It's not a weapon."

"Oh, really?" he asked. "What do they do now? Plant sunflowers?"

"It's an EM pulse generator," she said.

"That's a weapon!"

His shout stopped Morgan's playing abruptly. Tony seethed as Pepper told her nothing was wrong and to keep playing. Tony offered a clipped "keep going, sweetie" to reassure her as well. As the chaotic music started again, Pepper began explaining in hushed but firm tones.

"Calm down," she commanded. "This generator is not a weapon. It's not powerful enough. It will be used to disable malfunctioning signals in satellites that are used for monitoring climate change and shore erosion. The purpose is to help reprogrammed them from the ground without having to put teams in space to do the shut off protocols first."

"That's bullshit," Tony grumbled.

He moved away from her and ran both his hands through his hair. His chest constricted and the muscles in his neck corded. He stated his belief that if it was truly a support project, it would be controlled by NASA and have the Environmental Protection Agency spearheading it. Pepper explained it was a Congressional budget thing that allotted the money to the military. To Tony, that just meant they wanted Stark Industries to create a functioning pulse wave generator with a top of the line targeting system. He charged that the DOD would dismantle it and recreate to do much bigger, much worse things. An electromagnetic pulse when accurately targeted could disrupt all technology, leaving a country defenseless and an entire population without communications or services. It was how to cripple a nation without dropping a single bomb.

"I understand the implications and the possibilities," Pepper said. "There will be contractual restrictions on the project so that the device can't be altered."

Tony shook his head. All they would do was violate the contract, pay the penalty, or tie the matter up in litigation for a long enough time to reverse engineer what they wanted based on Stark Industries' design.

"Say no," Tony ordered her. "Veto it. You're the CEO. I'm the majority stockholder."

"You're not alive as far as the board knows," she pointed out.

"Fine, but you are and that makes you the majority stockholder."

"No, I'm not," she shook her head then offered him an apologetic look. "I am the CEO, but your estate is not settled. Tony, when I found out you were alive, I didn't meet with the lawyers to execute your will. I couldn't. It wouldn't be honest. All of your shares are still tied up in an escrow account so I can't even exercise my proxy on them. Between us, we own 60 percent, but I personally only own 20 of that. Your 40 percent is technically mine, but we need a judge to clear that paperwork as your proxy paperwork is considered null at death in lieu of the dictates of your will and trust. I argued against accepting the contract, but the rest of the Board voted against me. They represent 40 percent of the shares; that beat my 20. I'm sorry. I know this is not what you want. I don't want it either, and it's not a done deal. We've just agreed to do preliminary work. By the time we get to the point of engineering an actual prototype, you'll be out in the world again, I hope. We can move to table the project then."

Tony sat down and rested his elbows on his knees then held his head heavily in his hands. He'd torn the weapons division out of his company in 2008. He'd dismantled it entirely to cleanse the Stark family name of years of warmongering patina. He had even the in-progress weapons destroyed at that time then returned the money for those contracts. He had fought so long to have his legacy be anything but that of a war profiteer and destroyer of peace. In the back of his mind, he heard Ho Yinsen's last words to him in the Afghani cave pleading with Tony to change his life.

"Every vote in favor of this was cast by someone who knows, WHO KNOWS, I wouldn't want this," he said. "No respect for the dead when there's a buck on the line, I guess."

A terrible choice sat in front of him: Rejoin the world and put the life of his wife, their unborn son, and their daughter in peril to save the soul of his company, or let loose a weapon on the world that could decimate countless families. There was no way to win. His head began to throb.

"You should have fired DeLeer and just risked the lawsuit," he said as he felt her arm drape over him.

"Maybe," she said. "He's going to Frankfurt soon. Maybe he'll make that easy for me."

"No babysitter?"

"The Board asked that he lead the trip since I'm not traveling overseas right now for obvious reasons," Pepper said then gestured to her burgeoning belly.

Tony nodded and exhaled in frustration. There was nothing he could do in his current predicament. There might be time to shut down the project if Fury's people could figure out who was posing a threat to the Stark family then deal with the would-be perpetrator. As Tony lifted his head, he spied some of Morgan's latest artwork scattered over the table.

He grabbed the pages and stared at them as he tried to quiet and clear his mind. He was able to identify many of her recurring figures. She often drew herself with butterfly wings (and occasionally antenna) along with flight stabilizer gauntlets from his armor. He was identifiable due to his dark hair and the sharp, black V she used for his goatee and chin. Large green marshmallow shapes were usually Banner. Rectangles with blocky heads and very wide, toothy grins were Happy. Harley was mostly an orange stick figure who waved a lot. One figure in the picture was different than normal. Tony lifted an eyebrow and looked at Pepper (always depicted previously with a sleek triangle for a body and long ropes of yellow and red hair). This time she had a bulbous-shaped center.

"Ah, yes," Pepper nodded as Morgan continued her session in the adjoining room, now singing along in what sounded like French. "This is me now. I get to be round'ish."

Tony held the drawing up and looked from it to Pepper, tilting his head as though giving them both a detailed critique. As relief from his sudden new bout of turmoil, it was a raging success.

"It's a very shapely roundness," Tony offered as he fought a smirk. "Elegant even."

"The picture or me?" she wondered. "She told me I look like her 'squishy' teddy bear. You're laughing at me. You're enjoying this because she has your tact."

"She also has my eye for beauty," Tony explained as he reached and arm around her. "She loves that bear. It's adorable. Her drawing is… interpretive. Just remember she's a preschooler not portrait artist, honey. I think you look great. I told you that today, right?"

"Yes, but I the point is that it's time I have the talk with her about getting a baby brother," Pepper said. "I'm planning to do it this weekend while I work on our Easter plans."

"What are our Easter plans?" he asked. "Last I recall, you're not a fan of rabbits."

"I'm inviting people here for brunch," she said.

"People?" Tony asked cautiously. "More than Happy, Rhodey, and Bruce people?"

She nodded and announced her intention to invite his friends. Since he had spent half a year as a hermit, she felt it was time that changed. His mood flattened, but he did not object as her knew that tone—the one that said her mind was made up.

"The list includes Steve and Peter," she informed him. "I've also arranged a flight home for Harley that weekend. He needs to spend some time with his mother and his sister. His absence also prevents you from hiding in the garage working with your minion acting as your shield."

Her smile was both challenging and triumphant. Tony sighed and surrendered.

"Fine," he said listlessly. "You invite whoever you want. It's your party."

"Tony, it's time," she insisted. "Past time, actually. I spoke to Rhodey and Sam about this, and they don't object. They said no one on the list is a security threat, which is unsurprising but was strange to hear all the same."

Tony nodded. It was good to hear that his former teammates were not now the bad guys and weren't on a list of suspects possibly culpable for making him magically appear then leaving him with a precarious condition that had Banner stressed like over tightened piano wire.

"You're sending invitations?" he asked and received a nod. "We can make this easy."

He picked up her tablet and saw the names. None surprised him. He activated the camera and reversed the lens so it showed the two of them. He snapped a picture of them with his head resting on her shoulder and his hand on her bulging belly.

"There," he said. "Send that out with #Alive+Kicking. Two announcements in one. No need for a party. All information conveyed. No one inconvenienced on a Sunday."

Pepper took her device back and declined his approach. Instead, she explained her discussions about security included instructions not to mention Tony in the invitation. Only those who arrived would know the truth. Rhodes or Sam would meet individuals as they arrived and brief them. Tony nodded, not interested in the protocol. Sam would be present as it was work. Only Banner and Rhodes would show as guests. That was all. He was certain of it.

"Be prepared for people to decline," he said. "Cap might feel obligated to visit you, but there might be an Easter Egg roll for those with functioning hips at the nursing home so…"

"Stop being petulant," she shook her head. "You want to talk to him, even if you won't admit it. He'll be relieved to see you. And I'm inviting Peter to come the Friday evening before and stay for the weekend. You two need to talk."

**oOoOo**


	22. Chapter 22

**oOoOo**

It had been weeks since Peter heard back from Barnes. He'd left messages, sent texts, and even gone back to the building Barnes asked him to watch. Every attempt at contact failed, and there was a "For Lease" sign in the upper window were Peter had observed the focus of the operation.

Peter was cut off. Utterly out of the loop. Alone. Again. Naturally.

He scuffed his feet on the gritty pavement as a cloudy day above mirrored his gloomy thoughts. He'd skipped his academic club practice. It wasn't a real practice. They were getting cheap pizza and hanging out because there was a holiday that weekend. He didn't care. He couldn't.

Easter, a time for renewal and rebirth, when the world woke up from its long winter slumber and resurrected itself, was a fraud.

Peter scowled at the concept. Dirty, dreary, and deceptively not warm is how he would describe the current weather. Aunt May's job had changed her schedule so she was going to be working that weekend, leaving Peter alone on Easter. He'd called Happy and asked what he was doing but learned he would be upstate to see the Stark family. Happy made a joke about bunny ears that Peter didn't quite hear. He forced a stale laugh then ended the call. His new plan was to just crawl into bed and sleep the whole weekend. Queens could get along without its friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Everyone else seemed to be doing it just fine after all.

He turned the corner toward the bodega where he intended to pick up a snack for his bus ride home when a commanding voice sounded behind him, causing him to whirl and raise his web casters.

"Peter," Dr. Strange greeted him then raised his own hands defensively. "Don't cover me in your silly string, please."

"Doc!" Peter gasped and blinked, surprised and astoundingly pleased to see the man who he failed to save from a kidnapping to space. "Where did you come from?"

"Bleeker Street, and don't call me Doc," he frowned.

"Sorry," Peter apologized. "It seems strange to call you Dr. Strange."

"It is my name," he replied wearily.

"I know that now," Peter blushed. "It's just that, when we met, I thought it was your superhero name not your name-name. You don't have a superhero name, do you?"

"Dr. Stephen Strange is super enough to cover all aspects of my resume," Strange offered, "but that's not important. I have something to tell you. After the battle last fall, other events unfolded that were unforeseen."

Peter nodded eagerly, his body beginning to tingle with anticipation. He was needed. They were calling him to action. He was going to be ready. Of course, he wasn't sure whose side the wizard was on or if Dr. Strange had a side. He had been pretty adamant about not liking Mr. Stark and not putting his survival on his list of priorities (Peter's either for that matter) when they were traveling to Titan. While he saved Mr. Stark by trading the Time Stone, it seemed that really did was delay his ultimate death. Peter then recalled that Dr. Strange was the one person who knew Mr. Stark couldn't survive for them to win. At that recollection, his enthusiasm toward seeing the wizard cooled.

"Like what kind of event?" Peter asked carefully. "What are you asking me to do exactly?"

Strange caught the change in the teen's tone and attitude. He shook his head while thinking Tony had been quite the influence on the boy.

"I'm not asking you to do anything," Strange said. "I'm informing you that past events had future consequences."

"Consequences?" Peter repeated. "Like danger? I don't know if you're aware of what's been happening for the last six months, but I'm kind of on my own here. The other Avengers don't contact me. I'm not even sure I'm one of them. What is it you need from me? What's the problem?"

Strange paused and considered how to reply. He was making this contact on behalf of Rhodes. For security reasons, there weren't a lot of trusted personnel with the time to make a trip to the city and speak with the kid in person. Originally, Happy Hogan was supposed to do the honors, but he was needed at the house for some reason so Rhodes pivoted to the one person he trusted that knew Peter and was already in the city.

"The problem," Strange began to explain, "is not so much of a problem as he is a person, who is a conundrum and an annoyance but tends to grow on you if you can get over the urge to throttle him. I'd definitely put him in the category of an aggravation some days, and he certainly has the distinct possibility to be full-blow irritation on others." He paused as his cloak gave him a warning tug to stay on topic. "But I suppose some would say that's part of his charm. My point is that just after we were at the funeral…"

Peter shook his head instantly and held up his hands to halt the discussion. He was going on three days without tearing up or feeling like there was a huge lump in his throat. He wanted to keep the streak going.

"Can we not talk about that?" he pleaded. "I'm doing my best to just deal and move on. I think, over all, I'm doing pretty well. It's just hard sometimes. Once in a while, I just wish that…." He stopped as the painful lump began rising. "I mean, I know there are stages of grief. I'm doing my best with them. I don't think talking about it or thinking about him more is going to help me. I can't do what everyone else does and just shrug off what happened so if you could just not…"

Strange threw up his hands, startling Peter. Then he shook his head as his words cut firmly across Peter's soliloquy by talking over him. As he waved his arms, the world around them turned oddly angular, like they were suddenly standing in cut crystal. All sounds of the street stopped and the air grew still.

"Tony Stark is alive," Strange announced.

"…mention anything about…," Peter paused as his brow scrunched in confusion. "What did you say? What just happened here? Did you do something?"

"We're in the mirror dimension where no one can see or overhear us," Strange explained. "I needed privacy to tell you this and let you process it without announcing it to the world seeing that it's one of the best kept secrets on the planet currently."

"And that secret is?" Peter asked as his heart began hammering, desperate to learn that he hadn't just misheard the man.

"Tony Stark is alive," Strange repeated.

"No, he's not," Peter shook his head as his voice cracked and his eyes sparkled with tears. "He died… right in front me. I barely got to say hello before I had to… say goodbye."

Strange sighed and shook his head. He placed his hand on the quivering teen's shoulder and looked him squarely in the eye and repeated his news.

"Alive?" Peter nodded. "Like in a spiritual way as in his memory lives on or…?"

"No, alive as in a corporeal form way," Strange insisted. "Heartbeat, respiration, walking, talking. That kind of live."

"I was at his funeral—we both were," Peter recalled as tears dribbled over his lids onto his pale cheeks. "They cremated him."

"That's a minor detail that's no longer relevant," Strange shook his head. "His status among the living is not public information for a lot of reasons. Namely, we just don't know how it happened. The Avengers are looking into a lot of theories including a rip between realities. I'm not so certain that's what happened, but that's not important today. The point is: He's here among us."

Peter's heart began fluttering. His hands tingled and his face felt a little weird. He looked at his hand quickly, worried he might be turning to dust again but nothing happened. He lifted his wild eyes to Strange as a terrifying question rose in his mind.

"Is he like evil?" he asked warily. "I saw this old movie about pets that were buried in this graveyard and then they came back evil. Please don't make me hunt him down. Do I need to hunt him down?"

Strange groaned.

"You remind me of him in the worse ways," he said. "Are you sure you're not related?"

"Sir?"

"This is not some trite, B-rate, Hollywood sci-fi movie," Strange lectured. "Tony's not a target or a mission for you. He's just a man. An egomaniacal, opinionated, self-aggrandizing, extrovert frequently in need of adulation, but still just a man."

Peter looked at him with bewildered eyes and confused expression as his brow began to furrow in offense.

"He's a hero," Peter said firmly. "He died so we could win."

Strange sighed then nodded, accepting the rebuke both in the teen's words and the hurt look in his eyes.

"I'm saying he's basically the same Tony Stark everyone knew," Strange explained. "He just has no recollection of the last five years."

Peter's face softened from 'overloaded with questions' to 'desperately worried' in a blink. He gripped Strange's forearm. Losing five years of memory wasn't something small. Memory was in the brain and that made Peter think it meant head trauma. When he spoke, his voice was small, thin, and on the verge of breaking.

"Is he okay?"

"He never was before if you ask me," Strange quipped, "but if you're asking is he healthy enough to have visitors and lead a fairly normal life, then the answer is yes. He is suffering some aftereffects from whatever brought him here, but they're treating those medically for now."

"Are they serious problems?" Peter asked in a hushed and concerned voice.

Strange sighed and shrugged. He wasn't aware of how far advanced Tony's condition was. The master of the mystical arts been too busy looking for his own explanations for how Tony was around during the last half year to have checked in with Banner's research. What Strange did know was how devoted this man-child was to Tony. Peter had gone after Strange when the Maw kidnapped him. Peter had done so without question or hesitation simply because Tony said to do it. The same thing was evident on Titan as they battled Thanos. Peter worshiped Tony; Tony's affection for the kid was hidden under a callused exterior of bluster and feigned annoyance, but it was no less strong.

"Dr. Banner is treating him," Strange said. "Tony's been home, working in his garage, on whatever engineering marvel captured his attention for months."

"You're being serious?" he demanded, his enhanced strength putting painful pressure on Strange's forearms. "This isn't some terrible joke or cruel test?"

When Strange shook his head, a light long missing from Peter's gaze sparked behind his eyes. He raised up his hands then cheered loudly before doing a backflip. He raced his hands through his hair and beamed so broadly that Strange's cloak collar stiffened in reaction. Peter then spun around still physically expelling his joy and pulled Strange into a hug so tight it knocked the breath from the doctor. The teen's exuberance rolled off him in waves that made the cold, harsh landscape of the mirror dimension sparkle and glow like an August sunset.

"Do Mrs. Stark and his daughter know?" Peter asked and received a nod, his words coming fast. "What about Happy? Do you even know who Happy is? You probably do. You seem to know everything, which is good, I guess."

"His wife and child are with him," Strange replied. "Mr. Hogan knows as well. He's been helping Tony."

"Helping?" Peter questioned. "Like how? Like being his driver again, or does he need more help than that? Is there something I can do? I can help him. Does he needs a caretaker?"

"I think supervision is wise for Tony at all times and should have been a default requirement most of his life, in my opinion," Strange answered.

Peter took in the information and felt just a small pang of jealousy. It sounded as though others, including the wizard, knew about Mr. Stark for a long while. Peter was apparently kept out of the loop. He supposed that was understandable, but it did hurt a bit.

"So I'm the last to know?" he guessed. "I guess it's fine. I mean, it's really not my business or anything. They were others closer to him before I ever met him. If it was important that I know, someone would have told me."

"Someone just did," Strange reminded him. "Peter, you weren't told until now because Tony wanted you to get on with your life."

That news actually hurt.

"Mr. Stark didn't ask to see me?" he asked, his face falling as his shoulders drooped. "I'm only asking because he was, at least he seemed to be, you know, glad to see me when you brought me back from Titan."

He didn't add the last words on his tongue: _He hugged me even_.

Strange rolled his eyes at the teenage angst and decided his work was done for this task. He swirled his hands as golden light shot from them. He opened a portal that showed a forested landscape with the edge of a house in one corner and a recently thawed lake in the background.

"He is asking to see you now," Strange informed him, leaving Peter blinking and his breath hitching in his chest. "Your presence has been requested so unless you've got something else to do, this is your ride. You're spending the weekend at the Stark's house upstate. There's a gathering on Sunday for everyone to see him."

Peter paused before stepping into the space portal between the two locations. A worrisome question wiggled in his mind.

"You said he's been sick," he remarked. "Is this a gathering to see him or to… Are we going just to say goodbye to him again?"

Strange sighed and gestured to the open portal.

"It's a reunion, not the last rites," he said and left off his following thought '_not yet anyway_.'

"Are you going, too?"

"No," Strange grumbled. "Someone has to guard the Sanctuary." Peter lifted an eyebrow at the sour reaction so Strange sighed and shrugged. "Wong's going. He won the coin toss. He's bringing me back leftovers—I'm holding you to making sure he does that. Besides, I've got more research to do on how Tony got here. They don't have all the details yet. I'm certain of it."

**oOoOo**

Peter stepped through the golden portal opened by Strange and found himself near the garage he recognized from his first and only visit to the Stark house the previous fall. Back then, the trees were just on the verge of changing color and losing their leaves for the season. Now, fresh green growth was swelling on the branches. The grass was light in color after waking from a winter nap. Peter stood still and didn't know where to go until he heard a voice behind him.

"Can I help you?"

Peter turned to see a lanky guy roughly his age (his living-age as he thought of it rather than the age his birth certificate indicated) standing beside the garage wearing an inquisitive expression.

"Um, uh," Peter gaped, unsure what to say.

"Hey, I know you," the guy said. "I saw you at the funeral. You interned at Stark Industries, right?"

"Yes," Peter nodded with relief as the lie was supplied for him. "I was an intern."

He vaguely recalled the guy's face. He stood alone during the wreath ceremony then spent some time with Pepper talking on the porch away from everyone else.

"I'm Harley Keener," he said offering his hand. "I'm Tony's intern now."

Peter shut his mouth quickly and nodded. He felt an instant pang of jealousy that embarrassed him. He also wasn't sure of the proper protocol. If Harley was the "new intern", had he been replaced? What were the guy's super powers? Was it appropriate to ask about them? How out of the loop was he with the Avengers since he didn't know they were recruiting other guys his age?

"Hi, um, I'm Peter," he said, wondering if his name would register. "Peter Parker."

"How did you get here?" Harley asked looking down the long driveway and not seeing a car. "I never heard anyone pull up."

"Well, I was just sent here," he replied. "I was invited."

"Pepper, right?" Harley nodded. "Of course, you're really here to see Tony, right?"

"Um, yeah, that's right," he also nodded and folded his arms. "I'm here to see… him. How do you know Mr. Stark?"

Harley laughed at the formal way of addressing Tony and shook his head letting it be known he'd never called Tony Mister anything. He explained knowing Tony since he was in grade school and his role in helping the rattled genius after a terrorist nuked his mansion and the world thought he died in it. Peter had called Mr. Stark "Tony" just once, and it killed him to think of doing it again for the memory it dredged up: Mr. Stark lying there, dying of radiation poisoning from the infinity stones with only the last unburned circuits of his armor and the final pulses of the arc reactor in it keeping him alive.

"So, naturally," Harley grinned as he continued, "when the world thinks he's dead again, he called on me."

"He called you?"

"Well, he sent me a video message," he explained. "He wanted my help on a project or 12. He's like in overload create mode but can't seem to finish anything. It's like A.D.D. for robot invention in the shop. That's why I'm here—I'm good for his focus. I'm taking the semester off from college to help him."

Peter nodded and grounded out positive words about what a great opportunity that was then asked how long the project would be and how long it had been going on. He was stunned, in a heartbreaking way, to learn Harley had been around for four months and would be staying through June at Tony's request.

"So, you're with the Avengers?" Peter asked.

"No way," Harley shook his head and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not that good. I'm just a student, basically a sideline project of Tony's for the last decade. He kept in touch with me over the years. He gave up making weapons back in '08, but we've had this ongoing competition for who can make the best potato gun—it was a thing when I first met him. Of course, now that Morgan's around we changed ammo to marshmallows. It's more about the engineering than anything else. I always tell him he should teach for a semester, but he says he'd rather hang by his thumbs for a week—total load of crap. He'd love nothing better than standing in front of a room of people hanging on his every word, but whatever. Tony and his quirks, right?"

Peter nodded. He could picture Mr. Stark giving college lectures. He'd love to take a class taught by Mr. Stark, no matter what it was. He had watched every recorded speech Mr. Stark had ever given, even those in which he was just introducing the winners of the grants for the September Foundation.

"So you know him pretty well?" Peter ventured feeling suddenly insignificant and uncertain for why he was even at the house.

"Yeah, Tony always seems to know just when I need to hear from him," Harley answered. "Like, I'll get an email or a call or a text right when I'm about to lose it or give up on something. I joke with him that he's got me under surveillance with one of those satellites he built."

_He gets calls out of the blue_, Peter despaired. _I never got that. I had to lie to Mr. Stark (and get caught doing it) for him to speak to me in the past. I only got summoned once, when he tested me on whether I was ready to join the Avengers. Sure, he checked in with me over the phone and computer, and he sent Happy around with messages, but he never pulled me out of school to come work with him other than for that thing in Germany with Captain America._

"That's cool," he forced himself to say.

"My dad left when I was a little kid, but Tony and I connected," Harley shrugged. "I know the world loves the whole Iron Man thing—and I'm a fan, too—but Tony himself is even better. He's the brains behind the thing; anyone could wear the suit. Tony just likes to act like he's this ogre or a cold, difficult bastard to work with, but it's total crap. You know what I mean? Like, if he yells, I have a hard time keeping a straight face because… I mean, he's just Tony, you know?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Peter nodded. "Just… him. Totally."

"Well, I gotta catch a plane," Harley said walked toward a mud spattered car. "Pepper's giving me a break and flying me home to see my mom and sister. I should warn you, Tony's in a weird mood today. I don't know what it is, but he's edgier than normal."

Harley nodded and offered a scanty wave before driving away. Peter stood by the garage with his arms folded, unsure what he should do. Leaving wasn't precisely an option because he couldn't return the way he'd come. He could try swinging through the trees but that would only get him so far. It was a two-hour drive back to the city. There were not enough trees or buildings in between to make that a reasonable means of transportation. As he pondered that problem, he heard Happy shouting then turned to see him huffing as he rounded the far corner of the house. A little girl with a bright jacket raced in front of him laughing loudly while brandishing something silver in her hand.

"Morgan!" Happy shouted. "You're not supposed to take that. It's a tool, not a toy. Half-pint, you really do listen like your father. Come on, Squirt! Be nice to Uncle Happy. You've run me ragged since lunch."

The child raced along the side yard toward a small structure of some sort that Peter recalled from the funeral was her playhouse. Happy started in that direction but stopped just beyond the porch as he spied the visitor and waved him forward. Peter sunk his hands into his pockets and approached.

"Good, you got here," Happy nodded. "The doctor guy told you why? I'd have told you myself, but Tony made me promise."

Peter nodded. It was just minutes earlier, but his elation at hearing Mr. Stark was alive had taken a hit by listening to Harley. Peter had always thought he was connected to Mr. Stark, but now he found out others had known for months that the man was alive. He also recalled that Dr. Strange said Mr. Stark had suffered some sort of damage that he had memory issues. If Pepper was the one who invited him (as Harley assumed), did that mean Mr. Stark didn't actually remember him?

"Dr. Strange told me Mr. Stark is alive," Peter replied. "I just don't understand why I'm here."

"You don't?" Happy asked then groaned. "You're as bad as he is. I think Pepper's right about you two needing therapy. Look, just go inside to see him. I've gotta get that ratchet back from Morgan so she doesn't take something apart."

Peter glanced over his shoulder to see the little girl running around a tree waving the tool in her small fist. He launched a web at her and snagged the ratchet from her hand then hauled it back.

"Thank you," Happy exhaled gratefully as he mopped his brow. "I forgot how tiring it is to chase around a creative, hyper-active, overly curious child."

"You were a nanny before?" Peter asked.

"Basically," he huffed, "but on my resume it says chauffeur and bodyguard. Tony's started using the word playmate lately, but I'm ignoring that or he'll decide I need to wear bunny ears. He'll joke with Morgan about it. Next thing I know, she'll make me a pair and I'll feel obligated to..."

The door to the house had opened and Tony stood above them listening and nodding.

"That sounds like a great idea, Haps," he announced. "You should get working on those with her for Sunday. Use glitter. She likes it."

Peter stared and felt his breath get trapped in his chest. Hearing Mr. Stark was alive was one thing. Seeing him standing on the porch, teasing Happy like there never was a funeral made Peter's head swim. When he found his voice, it eked out of his throat nervous and stumbling.

"Mr. Stark?" he said in a strangled gasp as he took a step forward. "It's really you, sir."

Tony halted on the steps and pointed swiftly at his former bodyguard.

"Happy," he ordered, "do the bodyguard thing. The kid's getting ready to launch here."

"What?" Peter asked as his eyes watered then cast his glance at Happy. "No I don't. Do I? I'm not. I wouldn't. I mean I won't."

Happy shook his head and started walking further into the yard. He patted Peter on the shoulder as he passed. Tony jerked his head toward the house.

"Inside, kid," he said as he turned away but shouted over his shoulder. "Happy, fetch Morgan."

Peter walked on uncertain knees up the steps and followed him into the house. The atmosphere was warm and pleasant, welcoming even, but very quiet. Peter shuffled hesitantly down the hall and arrived in a living room where the afternoon sun glinted off the lake and bathed the room in a golden glow. Peter swallowed as his mouth went dry when Tony stopped beside the island that bordered the kitchen and living room. He leaned back on the counter top with his arms folded.

"So," he began with a tense sigh.

"Wow," Peter exhaled as tears blistered in the corners of his eyes and clung precariously to his lashes. "Uh… Um, hi. Uh, sir, I'm Peter Parker."

Tony bowed his head then pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head before looking up again with his eyes glassy as well.

"Yeah, I know, Pete," he said calmly. "We met years ago. Calm down. I get it. Seeing dead guy alive again is weird. I know you didn't get a lot of notice about this so just relax. Keep cool. You know, just embrace it."

"Okay," he choked as he held in a sob and began to shake with every emotion he could catalog. "Um, how?"

"Like this," Tony replied.

He sighed then reached forward and pulled the quaking teen into an embrace, feeling Peter shudder as the sob the teen was fighting escaped. He crumpled into Tony's arms, squeezing back fiercely. The moment gripped Tony's throat as well and erased all words from his mind. He heard the kid grind out words like 'so sorry' and 'couldn't believe' and 'never wanted it to happen.' Tony said nothing in reply, just let the steam run out as the angsty knot in his chest—the one that cinched tightly and painfully on Titan and never fully left—finally released and let go of the pain he'd carried in his chest every day he recalled since. Peter took a breath and as he prepared to step back but let himself hang on a few seconds longer. Sensing what he was doing, Tony waited and allowed Peter let go first. When the kid relaxed, Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

"The last time this happened," Peter rasped as he dragged his arm across his eyes to hastily dry them, "you died a few minutes later."

"Never happened," Tony shook his head. "I didn't die. I'm right here."

"But I saw…," Peter began then stopped. "Mr. Stark, how are you here?"

"Kid, if I can teach you nothing else, let it be this," he said. "Sometimes, you just need to nod at the crazy and go about the rest of your day."

Peter nodded furiously as he mopped his face once more and got control of his breathing.

"It's good to see you, sir," Peter cleared his throat. "When I lost… When we lost you… I mean, when I thought we lost you, I was… I can't believe this is real. It's really you... Or is this a dream?"

"I swear if you pinch me, I will slap you," Tony warned and earned first wide eyes then a shy grin.

"And you know me?" Peter asked. "Dr. Strange said you had some memory issues."

"I didn't realize I needed to prove myself," Tony scoffed. "Here it is, Cliff Notes version: You, a plucky honors student who masquerades as a secret Queens-based neighborhood Spider-Man looking out for the little guy gets discovered by yours truly, a charismatic genius and global superhero who gave you a wardrobe upgrade. We did a thing in Germany; your entire concept of strategy revolves around movies that—get this straight, Pete—are not THAT old. Followed up the adequate Germany performance by disobeying me back in New York but still prevented a hijacking of a transport carrying alien technology; then disobeyed me again when you stowed away on an alien craft and went all dust in the wind when an alien maniac deleted half of the universe. Oh, and you've got a hot aunt who we lied to and said you got a grant from my September Foundation as part of your fake Stark Industries internship. All clear? Good. It's April. Why haven't applied to MIT yet?"

Peter's head was spinning. He gaped and opened then closed his mouth several times before he found a word to use.

"Uh, what?"

"MIT," Tony repeated as he folded his arms and his face grew serious. "It's a school in Boston. You've heard of it. I went there. I looked at their application database. Nothing from you yet. Why?"

"Right, um, okay," he breathed slowly. "Before, when you were saying all that stuff about us, I mean you and me, did someone tell you all of that or…?"

"Our basic history?" Tony questioned as he shook his head. "No one told me. I remember it, right down to every single time you disobeyed me."

His voice was stern and his expression hard. Peter wondered if he looked at Harley this way because it wasn't an easygoing reaction he could just laugh off.

"Every one of them?" Peter swallowed.

"Oh yes," Tony nodded, "which now includes the MIT issue I just mentioned. So?"

Peter was saved from responding by Pepper, who entered the room shaking her head and scoffing at her spouse.

"No," she said. "Tony, you are not doing this like a press conference where you aren't taking questions or like you're giving hostile testimony in front of Congress." She turned swiftly from her admonishment to Peter. "Peter, it's good to see you. I'm sorry we didn't contact you sooner. Tony thought it would be better not to distract you while you settled back into school and your routines. I said he was being stupid, and (like usual in these matters) I was right. Are you okay? I know this is a lot to take in."

Peter nodded as he stared at her. She looked quite different from the last time he saw her. He'd seen stories batted around on social media, heard the crass jokes, and felt offense on her behalf. Now, seeing her with his own eyes, he was distinctly aware of how cut off he had been from the Stark family and how much time had passed since he had any contact with them.

"He's fine," Tony said abruptly. "Look at him. Standing. Blinking. Breathing, almost normally. No fainting." He turned his head sharply toward Peter and added: "She worried you'd faint."

Pepper sighed and denied the accusation then asked her question to Peter again.

"I'm… fine," he said while blinking. "Surprised, too. Uh, this is weird, but good weird."

Tony patted Peter's back roughly.

"See, just what I said," he offered. "I can pick 'em. Total gamer."

"He's stunned, and you're not helping," she replied.

"Um, how are you?" Peter asked her feeling his face grow rosy with awkwardness as he stared at her in amazement. "I mean, all of you… everyone."

"You made him nervous," Tony charged as he grinned at his wife. "You scared him. He was fine until you showed up, Pep."

She rolled her eyes at him then turned a softer gaze to Peter.

"We're all fine," she said. "Thank you for asking."

"Um, everyone?" Peter asked and cut his eyes at Tony swiftly. "Dr. Strange sort of said that there were things and…"

Tony scoffed and looked suspiciously at the ceiling as he dropped the volume of his voice slightly.

"Wizards," he said. "He could be spying."

"He's not spying," Pepper groaned. "I'm going outside to rescue Happy. He's got to leave soon to head back to the city. Peter, are you hungry? We're not eating for another hour."

"And you have to cook," Tony ordered.

"Stop that," Pepper scolded. "No, he doesn't. Peter, have a seat. Why are you holding a ratchet? Is it stuck to you?"

He held up it to show it still webbed to his hand. He blushed again for reasons he didn't understand as she sighed. Peter pried it off his palm, but Tony intercepted it before Pepper could.

"Kids these days," he began, "with their sticky ratchets and their…"

She held up her palm to halt him then pressed her hand over his mouth silencing him entirely. She shook her head.

"You've been you, times five, all day," she charged. "Relax." She turned to Peter with a kindlier expression. "He's just been eagerly awaiting your arrival so this is just pent up stress."

"Not eager," Tony huffed as he shook his head as he spoke from under her restraining hand until she removed it. "I just knew it was on the schedule. That's more like aware, perhaps at the outside anticipated which is not the same as eager."

Pepper kept her focus on Peter.

"He's a little tense, but he'll unwind soon," she said as she patted Peter's arm. "We're both glad you're here. Happy let your aunt know that you were staying here this weekend—that is if you want to stay. She doesn't know about Tony. I'm sorry about that, but we're keeping those in the know a tight group for now. There's a room for you on the right at the end of that hall."

"Thank you so much," he hemmed. "Um, I don't actually have anything with me. I didn't know that I would be going anywhere but the apartment after school so…"

"Happy raided your room," Tony asserted. "The whole underoos thing was a joke, but if turns out that's what you sleep in, he's gonna blackmail you with a threat of telling me. Do you have money? He's gonna want money."

"Stop," Pepper scoffed but fought a grin. "No, he's not. Peter, your aunt packed a bag for you in case you wanted to stay. Happy brought it here. She said to wish you Happy Easter and that she'll see you Sunday evening when she's home from work unless you head back with Happy tonight. We would like you to be one of our guests on Sunday for brunch. Happy can take you back home afterward."

"One of your guests?" he questioned.

"We've invited a few people over to make this," she pointed at Tony, "official, at least among close friends."

"And to celebrate that my old gang got a new superhero to replace me," Tony added. "Huge, invisible bunny. Named Harvey."

Peter's eyes opened wider as he turned his eyes to his idol and blinked.

"They did?"

Tony shook his head and rolled his eyes as he spoke to Pepper.

"See, no depth of knowledge in this generation," he said then turned to Peter. "That is an OLD movie, Doogie. Star Wars, Aliens? Not so much. Harvey? Yeah, big time, like my father's generation kind of old."

Peter nodded and folded his arms then looked at his two hosts.

"Um, so is there a super invisible rabbit or not?" he asked.

"Ask Pepper," Tony smirked. "She loves big rabbits. Can't get enough of them."

"Peter," she sighed with finality, "make yourself comfortable and ignore him at will. Tony, you need to behave and be nice. No more work either. Shut down whatever you've got going in the other room and visit with Peter."

She paused as FRIDAY addressed them and stated that it was time for monitoring and transmission. Pepper pointed to a black cuff with sensors attached to it that sat on the counter top.

"Vitals and inhaler," Pepper said simply.

"You're a mother," Tony groaned but reached for the cuff all the same. "Not my mother."

"Yes, very clever," she folded her arms and offered him a starchy expression. "Vitals and inhaler—both of them—in that order. Now."

Tony did as directed. She waited patiently until the process was complete. She thanked him and placed a dry kiss on his cheek then nodded to their guest.

"Now, let Peter talk," she ordered. "You listen."

"Right," Tony called to her as she left the house. "I'm known for my renowned listening skills."

As the door shut behind her, he watched for several seconds then spun the ratchet in his hand before nodding at Peter.

"Cool," he said conspiratorially. "The babysitter is gone. Come with me. We need to talk. You got some 'splaining to do, Lucy."

**oOoOo**


	23. Chapter 23

**oOoOo**

The phone was not the most useful tool ever invented, Cap decided. It had become progressively less useful over the decades. In the early days, getting a call was important. People raced for the phone when it rang. Years later, he found himself frequently ordering his children to limit their time on the phone. In the next generation, when phones were fully mobile and in everyone's pockets, he was informed by his grandchildren that they preferred text messages to actual calls. He would never understand that. Why wasn't hearing a human voice better?

Despite the ability to reach (in theory) anyone on a cellular phone at any time in any location, calls often went ignored. That was the trouble presently. Fury was ignoring his calls. Hill was ignoring his calls. Sam was ignoring his calls. Even Bucky was not picking up when Cap called—and that truly concerned him. Bucky was much more comfortable with advanced technology than his friend, and he would never let a call from Cap go ignored. He certainly wouldn't do it three times in a row.

Cap wasn't sure who to call to look into this problem, so that left him only one answer.

He needed to do it himself.

He set out early in a frigid morning, driving the car his son informed him was a good choice for a man his age. At his age, the car dealer had balked at the thought of Cap driving at all much less purchasing a car rather than leasing it. When the old man showed the salesman a certificate from the DMV certifying his eyesight was 20/10—much better than normal vision—then began writing out a check for the down payment, the salesman simply stopped talking. Cap had let his son choose the vehicle to ease the younger man's worries. He chose a moderate sized SUV. Cap did not drive it far or often, but that was mainly because anytime he traveled a great length he took trains. This trip, however, was just 20 miles away from his apartment, to the building where Bucky had told him he worked.

He arrived to find the building looking as derelict as it did the first time he laid eyes on it, but there was something more now: remnants of crime scene tape across the side door. With a quick glance to verify no one was watching, he stepped inside. The building sounded hollow and felt cold. He walked the switchback stairs, taking his time because the decades did make exerting himself a bit more taxing on his system than they had in his glory years. He followed the river of dried footprints to an upper floor. Once there, his eyes took in the rusty brown spatters all over a wall that could only be from dried blood. He reached his hand forward to touch the stain but quickly backed off.

If someone had harmed Bucky (and someone was certainly harmed in that room), then he would have been told. Or should have been. He was the only family Bucky had. With his mind intent upon finding out who left the walls splattered so viciously, he descended to the ground floor. He exited the building through the rear door close to where he had parked to find a pale man with a receding hairline standing in from of him. He wore a dark overcoat, dark suit, dark sunglasses, and the brightest smile Cap had seen in years.

"Captain," Coulson beamed. "A pleasure to see you, sir. I was wondering if you might give me a lift some place."

"Fury letting you out in direct sunlight now?" Cap asked, shaking the man's offered hand.

"Something like that, sir," Coulson replied. "Special circumstances call for special rules."

"There should be only one set of rules," Cap replied.

"Agreed, but should be and are don't always intersect," Coulson offered. "If you don't mind giving me a lift, I think I can help you."

"Where is Bucky?"

"It's not far," Coulson said without answering the question. "I think you'll find it an enlightening journey."

"I want to know what happened in there," he held firm. "I want to know where Bucky is."

"Captain," Coulson said with urgency pulling hard on his stale grin, "I can answer many of your questions, but to do so we need to leave here. Now."

**oOoOo**

Banner's call with Shuri was not reassuring. He'd sent her a few theories regarding his discovery in Tony's archives but gave only vague details on what he was proposing and how he happened upon the idea. While chemistry and chemical engineering were within her wheelhouse, she did not see how his suggestion for reprogramming the basic spark for life (the electromagnetic pulse of a cell) would be possible in a living organism. She jokingly pointed him to the works of Mary Shelley for reference but offered to tagalong with her brother in a few days when he arrived in the United States to speak at the U.N. She said that while the King of Wakanda dealt with the international politics and ramifications of 'the vanished' now being 'the returned' (and the impact that was having globally), she could come to Banner and look at whatever it was making him so sparse with details yet so demanding of answers. He thanked her but declined additional help so that she didn't make a trip unnecessarily. He was forbidden to disclose to her more than he already had.

He didn't give up though. His stronger hope was the woman on her way to Delta Camp that day. Banner had given that scientist the same scant story and details but received a more receptive attitude. One of Dr. Helen Cho's specialties was genetics so any discussion about reprogramming cells and recoding DNA always caught her attention.

Guards escorted her to his lab late in the afternoon.

"You're here!" Banner nearly collapsed with relief as he rushed forward to clasp Cho's hand. "Finally!'

She was startled but kept her face curious as he led her to his station. The multiple screens held a variety of test results and chemical formulas which didn't look familiar. They were variations of ribonucleic acid polymerase.

"What is this?" she stared. "You contacted me late in the fall about resequencing DNA. This is RNA."

"Exactly!" Banner clapped his hands and threw them in the air. "DNA controls the genes, which is why all the research as gone that route, but the RNA is the real key. We were all on the wrong train this whole time. It's the RNA that carries the instructions from the DNA! I'm still blown away that he did this in a lab in the 1940s! Then again, he was kind of a mad scientist in a good way… Both of them were actually, but Erskine… Man, he had it figured out without any of the knowledge or equipment I've got here, and then Howard Stark figured it out again but somehow didn't tell anyone."

"Howard Stark?" she questioned. "Tony's father?"

Her words were spoken in a hushed, reverent way, paying respect to both deceased men. Both were engineers whose work she admired even if it didn't precisely intersect with her discipline. She received several research grants from Stark Industries in her career, and then there was the matter of that sentient murderous robot invading her lab and making her synthesize another of its kind while nearly killing her.

"This is his work—Howard's," Banner gestured at the screens. "He spent nearly 50 years trying to figure out what was lost when Abraham Erskine was killed. He rediscovered the secret Erskine took to his grave. Then Howard was killed in that accident and somehow no one knew about…"

His voice trailed off as the well-known story of the tragic death of America's premier inventor and defense contractor of the last century sprang to his mind. Howard Stark had solved the mystery of his lifetime. A man known for his showmanship and swagger had somehow kept something that big and vital to himself then tragically perished (per the timestamp on the file Banner reviewed) within hours of synthesizing of the formula. As Banner put the pieces together, and it suddenly struck him as stiflingly suspect: a random car accident on a backroad that was not given to high speeds of travel. Like the two dead lab techs recently from Camp Delta (both killed in an alleged accident in an area where such a thing was unlikely), Banner's mind filled with suspicion and doubt. However, rather than dwell on it, he wrenched his thoughts back to the problem (and possible solution) at hand.

"My point is, this formula has been sitting mothballed in an old file written in an ancient programming language no one uses anymore," he said. "It was hidden in a place only Tony… That's it." He exhaled and blinked at the trust and genius of the long-dead inventor who had such a troubled family life. "He hid it where only Tony would find it… like the way he hid the molecular structure for Starkonium… Wow. Tony should hear this."

"That will be difficult," Cho offered awkwardly, drawing Banner's attention. "Bruce, what is so urgent that you got me on plane in the middle of the night to fly all the way around the world? You are talking about two dead men. No chemical formula can bring either of them back."

"What?" he blinked. "Right. I'm sorry. I know. Helen, I need your help. I need to know if this formula what I think it is and if I can make it do what I need it to do—and I need to know now. There isn't any time to lose."

"What do you think this can do?" she asked skeptically.

"Hijack a suicide protocol in the DNA proteins cause by a faulty electromagnetic pulse and reprogram it to fall in synch with a wave length we dictate," he said quickly. "The RNA's the key. I can't alter the DNA without there being colossal domino effects, but if I can give the RNA the right message, that might work."

She looked carefully at the screens. They seemed to indicate increase cell production—at an exponential rate—and an astounding resiliency in cells with restorative powers. She looked at him with fear dawning in his her eyes.

"You can't engineer the perfect human, Bruce," she stepped back. "And even if you could, I would do everything I could to stop you. This is not what I do."

He shook his head and held up his hands contritely.

"I'm not trying to do that," he assured her. "I'm trying to cure someone who is going to die if I can't make this happen. I don't want this to be used for creating super humans. If we leave out the radiation absorption step, none of the increasing factors will be activated. All that will be left is the RNA's new subroutine that will direct the cells to just live out their lives with an average decay rate not one in an express lane. Helen, I just want to take one sick man and put him back on his feet. I owe him that much. We all do."

**oOoOo**

Peter followed Tony around a corner and to room at the back of the house. At the center was a table that glowed slightly. Above its surface, it projected and three dimensional image of a Spider-Man suit. Peter paused on the threshold to marvel at the holo-table then turned his head when he realized he'd drawn his mentor's razor sharp focus.

"Pick up the pace, kid, or I'll think you want to be somewhere else," Tony said. "Do you want to be somewhere else?"

"What?" Peter shook his head. "No sir."

"Good," Tony replied as he proceeded to the table, "because there is nowhere else to be for five square miles, and the only way out is on foot or by car. You won't get far in those shoes with all the mud at this time of year, and I'm not loaning you a car. Do you even know how to drive?"

"Uh, yes, sort of," he said nervously. "I mean, I don't have a license. I take the bus or… you know…"

He held up his arms to which Tony nodded understanding the pantomime.

"Tarzan transport," he said rotating the image projected from the holotable with a few hand motions. "Not overly useful out here unless it's to make a swing for Morgan." His gaze darted back to Peter. "Don't make a swing for Morgan."

"What?" Peter gaped then shook his head. "No. I wouldn't. Of course not. Um, why?"

"Because you'll never get away," Tony said. "She'll own you. Don't ask me how. It just happens. She Svengali'ed Happy last week into pushing her on her swing for nearly two hours when he was supposed to be heading back to the city on Pepper's orders. Anyone who can override Pepper is a force not to trifle with. You should write that down. There might be a quiz later."

Peter nodded, hearing the words but not processing them. He was still reeling from the sight and sound of his mentor in full-tilt Tony Stark mode, rattling and rambling like this was just an average day rather than the most spectacular (and confusing) day of Peter's life. He watched as Tony highlighted the schematic of Peter's Iron Spider suit. Peter blinked and wondered if there was something wrong that needed to be fixed or if there was a new iteration in the works. Although excited, he bit his lip.

"Looking a little hesitant there, Pete," Tony observed.

"No, not at all except, well, um," he paused then looked over his shoulder toward the rest of the house, "she, your wife that is, said no work so…."

"So, what Pepper doesn't know won't hurt us," Tony assured him. "See how easy that is?"

Peter nodded and fidgeted for a moment before folding his arm to pin his still shaking hands under his elbows.

"Wait, didn't you just say defying defying your wife wasn't wise?" he noted.

"Yes, if she finds out," Tony nodded.

Peter nodded with him, although he did not know why. Then he swallowed uncertainly.

"Um, can I ask you a question, sir?"

"You just did," Tony noted as he took a seat at the design table. "You want to ask another?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "How… um… how are you, sir?"

Tony sighed and growled under his breath but kept his face neutral.

"I'm fine."

Peter stared back at him to see dark circles under his eyes and a complexion much snowier than he recalled ever seeing it. There was an obvious medical port pinned to his chest under the faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt he wore. His cheeks were a hollow, and there was a pinch of pain around his eyes.

"Are you really?" Peter asked doubtfully. "Before we came in here, you had to do something that looked like it was for blood pressure and then you had that inhaler thing. I was just worried… wondering… You look a little… ill. Mr. Stark, how sick are you? "

"Way to stroke your mentor's ego," Tony scoffed. "Really, I appreciate the compliment, Peter. You're a charming house guest."

"Sir," Peter said with some force in his voice not to be dismissed so readily, "it's great to see you, but you look a bit like you don't feel completely well. Are… are you going to be okay?"

Tony sighed. Quips about feeling great for being dead came to mind, but there was too much sincerity in the kid's voice to respond that way.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," he nodded, not sounding entirely like he believed it. "If you say so. Um, it's good news about the baby."

"What baby?" Tony asked and watched as Peter blushed then let him off the hook quickly. "Kidding. Morgan's getting a brother in July."

The news was good to hear, Peter supposed. A baby was a good thing, but learning it was a boy caused a sharp knot to tighten in his chest. It startled him.

"You'll have a son?" he blinked then nodded as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. " That's… that's great. Do you have a name yet?"

Tony watched what looked like shame trying to pummel jealousy into submission and wrestle for control of the kid's face. He pretended not to see it as he nodded.

"Yeah," he answered. "All my life: Anthony Edward Stark, but people call me either Tony or Mr. Stark. I used to get sir'ed a lot when I talked to more than Pepper, Morgan, and Happy on a regular basis."

Peter chuckled nervously as his face slipped into a confused grin.

"I know that," he nodded. "I meant a name for your son."

"Negotiations are ongoing," Tony revealed as he returned his focus toward the suit design springing up from the table.

Peter stared at it, trying to dissect what might be different from the various pieces flashing and turning.

"I met your assistant earlier," Peter said.

"Morgan?"

"No, Harley," Peter replied.

"Oh, well, don't listen to him; he doesn't know the difference between passing grades and incompletes," Tony remarked. "And he's my intern, not my assistant. He has a hard time remembering that. I should write him instructions. He follows those fairly well. For example, at my direction, he did something you should do: apply to college."

"I know, sir," Peter began. "I will. I've been meaning to, but I've just been…"

"He also did something you shouldn't do," Tony continued speaking not waiting for an explanation, "and that's go to Tulane instead of MIT. He claims it's because New Orleans closer to his family. MIT is closer to yours, so you can't use that excuse."

"Yes, sir," he paused and drew a hard stare. "I mean, no, sir. I won't. I mean, I won't use that excuse."

Peter was on the verge of explaining why he had delayed applying when he noted a tremor in Tony's hand. He tried to look away but got caught staring at the trembling just before, Tony stood up and placed his hands flat on the table, cutting off the motion. Peter took a worried breath.

"Uh, Mr. Stark," he asked trying not to sound accusatory, "if you're not sick, what was that purpose of that inhaler you took and that blood pressure thing you used? Your wife seemed adamant about them."

"She is," Tony said simply.

"What are they for?"

"Research."

"You need a central line catheter as part of the research?" he asked pointing to his own chest to indicate that he could see the device on the other man.

Tony shifted his seat and tugged on his shirt uncomfortably as he narrowed his eyes on the spider suit.

"What is it for?" Peter asked.

"Research is for defining and solving problems," Tony deflected glibly but unsuccessfully.

"What medication are you receiving?" Peter persisted. When he got the back off stare, he merely shrugged. "I like chemistry, sir."

"Dysprosium."

"I wasn't aware Dysprosium had health benefits," Peter gaped.

"In one rare case."

"Rare?" Peter questioned. "Like how rare? Is it serious?"

Tony shook his head. Peter's expression remained flat an unconvinced.

"Are you lying?" he asked.

"A little," Tony replied. "Don't worry about it."

"Kind of hard not to," he admitted. "I've never heard of anyone's ever needing to take medicinal metal, particularly one that has electricity conducting paramagnetic properties used in the alloy steel of nuclear reactors."

Tony blinked and stared at the kid with an astounded expression.

"Wow," he said eventually. "If Pepper said that to me, it would be very hot. From you, it sounds… doubtful and depressing. Or were you just trying to show off your knowledge of the periodic table?"

"Mr. Stark," Peter persisted, "how serious is your condition?"

"Don't worry about me, Peter."

"But I will," he said quietly as he swallowed the lump that had returned to his throat. "I just found out you're alive, and I hope that you'll stay that way. I mean, you've got a family that needs you and friends who… You mean a lot to… It's just that you're back and… Losing you was hard for… for everyone, so I just wanted to say that…"

Tony tensed as he heard the frailty and fear in the kid's voice. It got under his skin and dug at him.

"Okay," he said abruptly, "I'm going to stop you right there. I don't need or want a testimonial. This is not a wake, Peter. I'm not down to my last days. I'm here. I'm fine… mostly. A few small issues, under control—again, mostly. Dysprosium is a preventative measure that Bruce, Dr. Banner, ordered while he figures out a small isotopic issue for me. He'll figure it out."

Peter nodded unsure if he had the same faith, but he ordered himself not to think otherwise. Tony Stark had cheated death more than once; Peter told himself there was no reason to think he wouldn't again.

"Mr. Stark, if there's anything, I mean absolutely anything, I can do to help…," he offered earnestly.

"I know, kid," Tony nodded. "Thanks."

Peter felt the weight of the fear in his own voice, saw the repressed worry in Tony's eyes, and heard the lengthening silence in the room. He cleared his throat and made an observation that seemed clever before it passed his lips.

"You know," he said, "if you take Dysprosium long enough, you'd have a fairly high metal content in you. Someone might say that kind of makes you Iron Man without the suit." He paused as Tony gazed at him flatly making Pete nervous so he began to ramble in a diminishing voice. "Which is kind of funny because it's a metal and you were called… um… iron…"

He stopped before finishing. His voice trailed off as his smile cracked. He shrank back, folding his arms and slouching.

"Sorry," he offered in a small voice.

"Pepper was right," Tony nodded. "That probably wasn't funny when I said the same thing back in January."

Tony shook his head then returned to the schematic emitted from the table projector. He cleared the image then pulled up what looked like a series of 11 number combinations followed by time stamps.

"You've been receiving treatment since January?" Peter blinked. "That's a long time. Sir, what illness do you have?"

"Since I'm the only person ever to have it, I think I get to name it," Tony replied. "It's probably more important to settle on a name for the baby first. Once we nail that, I'll name the disease. Something with 'syndrome' in the title maybe." He looked up from the list of numbers and pointed at it as he stared at Peter. "Now, how about you tell me what you've been doing staking out office buildings and a calling burn phone rather than applying to colleges?"

His tone had changed drastically when he inquired about the calls. Peter swallowed. Before learning his idol was still alive, he'd have given anything to talk to Mr. Stark again. He would have told him everything about Sargent Barnes's assignment and would have asked for his advice (maybe even his help, in a minor way, because Peter knew he could totally handle the mission since it was hardly a mission at all). Now, after learning he was sick and taking an experimental treatment for a disease so rare it wasn't even named yet, Peter thought it best to keep that burden to himself.

"You tracked my phone calls?" he countered.

"It's my technology," Tony said, his voice growing sharp. "I can do whatever I want with it. Now, floor is yours, Spidey. Answer my question. What the hell are you up to, Peter?"

"It's fine, sir," he said instantly. "It's no big deal—nothing to worry about even. I was just helping out Sargent Barnes and…"

"Hold on," Tony cut in brusquely. "Sargent Barnes? If you mean Cap's homicidal war buddy, we've got a long night ahead of us."

**oOoOo**

The figure in the bed looked smaller than he should and extremely helpless. Bucky's pallor was something Cap would expect to see on a corpse. It was whitish gray and accentuated the dark bruise enveloping the right side of his face.

"What happened?" Cap asked Coulson in a hushed voice that still sounded loud in the small medical bay at Camp Delta.

"He was shot," Coulson replied. "Two bullets hit him in the chest. I was just a few minutes too late. I was tracking a fugitive. I believe he's the one who harmed Sargent Barnes. My question is, why was Sargent Barnes tracking the man? Does the name John Morley mean anything to you?"

Cap shook his head as he watched his friend, breathing with the assistance of a tube, laying so still in the hospital bed bathed in a sickly green fluorescent light. Tubes snaked into his arms carrying blood and fluids. Bucky seemed oblivious to both his condition and his visitors.

"What about the name Ghost?" Coulson persisted. "It's sort of Morley's super villain name."

"Doesn't sound familiar," Cap replied. "Bucky never mentioned him. He said he was overseeing security at that building where you found me."

Coulson nodded and explained about there being a dead employee of Camp Delta found in that location. He quickly followed up with the assurance that no one thought Bucky guilty of that crime as voice analysis for the call they received summoning them to the location was undoubtedly that of the former Howling Commandos, but there was also a video file left behind showing precisely how the victim was killed, thus exonerating Bucky.

"Did you know Sargent Barnes had left the area recently?" Coulson asked.

"No, but I was worried about him," Cap revealed. "He was talking about the past. That's not really his style, at least, not that part of the past."

"Which part would that be?" Coulson wondered. "His time with Hydra?"

"Not exactly," Cap shook his head. "He was talking about Howard a lot. Howard Stark, that is—from the time when we knew him during the war."

"Ah," Coulson nodded and seemed to find that answer satisfactorily. "Did he mention anyone else from that family?"

Cap explained his friend's persistent guilt over the death of Howard and Maria. The current topic seemed to be spurred by a worry regarding what remained of Tony's family.

"I take it you haven't spoken to Sam Wilson or Colonel Rhodes today, have you?" Coulson wondered and received a head shake. "You've been invited to the Stark home for Easter?"

"Yes, Pepper sent me an invitation for brunch," Cap nodded. "I replied that I would attend."

"Then I think it's time someone brought you into the fold," the agent nodded.

"Why?" Cap asked. "Is that going to explain to me why someone I've never heard of nearly killed my best friend? I lost two of my closest friends last fall. I'm not sure hearing about a criminal conspiracy from a fugitive who nearly killed another is going to make any this any better."

Coulson smiled awkwardly. His appreciation of Cap never wavered, and he was eager to be the one to tell him all, but it wasn't his place. So he was forced to just deliver tidbits and hope that helped him maintain the man's respect.

"Sargent Barnes isn't part of anything criminal other than being a victim of a crime," he explained. "He tried to alert us to a problem that we thought we already understood. We were tracking Morley, or we were trying to locate him so we could track him. We were surveilling one of his associates, a man named Mason Osborne, in the hope of getting a line on Morley, who disappeared from custody five years ago. At first, it was thought Mr. Morley turned to dust with everyone else who disappeared, but later it became apparent he merely used the vanishing of others as his means of escaping. Mr. Osborne was in California looking for some technology to double cross Morley to end their partnership. Morley killed Mr. Osborne out there. Sargent Barnes discovered Mr. Osborne's body and was attacked. What we don't know is whether Morley found what he was looking for before harming your friend."

"This Morley must be an impressive soldier to sneak up on Bucky," Cap swallowed. "Is he an enhanced human?"

"He's a scientist of the insane persuasion," Coulson answered.

"I've known a few of those," Cap said and smiled sadly. "It seems to me insanity is in the eye of the beholder quite often."

"This one invented a suit that makes him able to penetrate solid matter and possibly warp time," Coulson said.

"We could have used that last year," Cap huffed.

"His way scrambles your brain and leaves you irreparably emotionally twisted with homicidal tendencies," Coulson shook his head. "The way your team tackled time travel was better."

"Still, the concept is the same," Cap offered. "Scott Lang brought us an idea, and Tony made it work. I think both of them, given the right or wrong audience, could easily have been called demented."

"Scott Lang is charmingly quirky, and Tony Stark has always embraced his eccentric label," Coulson offered.

"Embraced," Cap corrected him. "Tony's gone now, Coulson."

"Yeah," he sighed. "About that…"

**oOoOo**

Pepper cracked open an eye when she felt the blankets shift signaling Tony was finally coming to bed. She rolled over to face him. It was nearly 2:30 a.m.

"I was worried I'd have to go downstairs and order both of you to get some sleep," she said. "You finally finished talking?"

"Yeah, I'm all up on who's dating who in the senior class," Tony replied as he brushed strands of hair from her forehead.

"You were working," she accused softly.

"Science guys talking always sounds like work," Tony scoffed. "You shouldn't be awake. You're sleeping for two."

Pepper rubbed the bulge under the blankets as she sighed.

"He's been quiet for hours," she replied. "You were being a little hard on Peter before and after dinner."

"He's been talking to Barnes," he growled.

Pepper said nothing. She understood her husband's feelings on Cap's old friend. She shared them to a point. The difference was that she was able to acknowledge there were extenuating circumstances also worthy of considerations. However, she didn't fault Tony for his anger. They were his parents. He spent decades thinking a senseless accident killed them, refusing to deal with his grief, only to find out that one of his close friends learned the truth about their deaths and covered it up to protect their murderer.

"He says it was just a favor he was doing, watching someone for the Terminator," Tony grumbled. "Cap might trust the guy, but we don't know if he's stable. I said put him in a nice psych ward to work the bugs out of the system. Instead, they broke him out of prison and sent him to summer camp in Wakanda."

"Tony," Pepper said kindly, "that's ancient history. I know you don't remember it, but you made peace with this a long time ago, okay? Don't get worked up about it again please. I also know you're worried about Peter but worried doesn't have to mean angry."

"And curious doesn't have to result in stupid," he said. "I don't understand this sneaking around stuff he's doing. I never did that when I was his age."

"You didn't have to sneak around because when you were 17 no one was watching you while at the same time the whole world was watching you," she pointed out. "You've done plenty of things you probably shouldn't have in hindsight."

"True, but I never lied about them, and he's lying by not telling me everything," Tony said. "I don't know what he's actually doing other than stalking someone." He settled into the pillows and sighed heavily with both frustration and worry. "He might have gotten his orders from Barnes, but I think he's actually working for Fury, whether he knows it or not."

Pepper wrinkled her brow. With all the remaining Avengers again answering to Fury, it seemed odd the man would tap a high school senior to do his bidding.

"When Pete was rambling, he said the name Hill," Tony revealed as he stretched his arm around Pepper and pulled her close. "Maria Hill is Fury's right hand, or she was the last time I knew. Either way, if Pete's talked to her, he's looped in with Fury. Anything happens to the kid while he's doing something for that guy, I'll…"

Pepper shushed him and kissed his cheek. She reminded him it was late, he was tired, and he'd just had a long overdue chat with a friend he missed greatly. Those were reasons to relax not be tense.

"Don't be so hard on him when you talk to him tomorrow… well, later today at this point," she yawned. "Peter's a good kid. Whatever he's doing, he thinks it's for the right reason. Find out what it is, and you might agree with him."

"The right reasons, yeah, I've been there and it rarely ends well," Tony sighed. "I just want… I need him to be safe. It was my fault he was on Titan. I couldn't protect him there. Well, there's no genocidal alien hanging around here now, so I think I've got a better shot at it this time. I don't deny the kid's got skills and abilities. I just think he needs to focus on growing up and having a life before he throws it away for One-Eyed Nick's crusade against super enhanced evil. And on top of all that, the kid hasn't even applied to MIT yet."

He huffed and stared angrily in the dark at the ceiling.

"Oh the shock and horror," Pepper whispered in mock astonishment. "Does this mean the sun isn't going to rise tomorrow?"

"You know," Tony said, "I had girlfriends who were much more supportive and understanding than this, but I left all of them and gave up the single life for you."

"I've twice surrendered my body to be an incubator for your progeny," Pepper reminded him. "Which of us made the bigger sacrifice here?"

"Hardly a fair analogy, Pep," Tony grumbled while snuggling closer to her. "You get smart, cute kids out of the deal. I just get mocked."

**oOoOo**


	24. Chapter 24

**oOoOo**

Dawn settled over the lake bringing a warm, golden light into the windows beside the bed where Peter stretched. He'd slept nearly four hours, which was a long stretch for him in recent months. When he initially woke, he was disoriented until his mind registered that his amazing and fabulous dream had in fact not been a dream at all. It was real. He'd come to the lake house, confirmed Mr. Stark was alive, had dinner with the family, then spent most of the night getting lectured for several of his recent choices.

It had been amazing.

Okay, the lecturing was a little rough. Peter was a bit ashamed of himself for not asking more questions of Sargent Barnes before taking on his assignment. He wasn't sure precisely what the issue was between the former Howling Commando and Mr. Stark, but it was sufficiently serious that Mr. Stark had said he was revoking Peter's membership in the Avengers. Whether that was actually possible was not something Peter thought it wise to argue. After all, he wasn't aware if there was an actual initiation protocol in the first place so there was a chance that Mr. Stark's addition of him while they were on route to Titan was never official in the first place.

After they got through that part—and Peter was sorry that he was so lean on details, but he felt the urge to protect his mentor right now—they had reviewed some suit upgrades Mr. Stark had been considering for Peter. When (or if) he would allow Peter access to them wasn't discussed. Again, Peter was simply overjoyed that his mentor was alive and so concerned about Peter's welfare that he'd begun revamping his suit—after he threatened to ground Peter, kick him out of the Avengers, and tell Aunt May what Peter was up to anytime her eyes weren't on him. The last one was effective. Peter promised not to do anything more for Sargent Barnes without getting explicit permission from Mr. Stark first.

Peter quietly crawled out of bed and gazed at the sliver of the lake visible from his window. A soft mist was rising off the flat-as-glass surface. He dressed hurriedly as he planned to go outside and see that up-close. Having spent a lifetime in New York City, country living was like a foreign country to him and not to be missed. He pulled open his door to exit without disturbing the house but found his way blocked by a small body topped with dark hair and dark eyes while dressed in pink footie pajamas standing at his door.

"You're up," Morgan grinned and giggled before she took his hand. "I was waiting."

"Um, for what?" Peter whispered into the hushed atmosphere.

She merely pointed at him rather than speak her answer. Her grin widened.

"Should you be up?" Peter asked softly. "Is someone watching you?"

Morgan did not answer directly. Instead, she dragged Peter toward the living room while saying her Mommy giving her Daddy medicine for "his cold." Peter determined that the normal household routine involved Mr. Stark getting his treatment in the morning. At some point during that process, it seemed Morgan's day began as well. It wasn't clear that she was normally downstairs and playing so early. Her giddy giggle and persistent darting of her eyes toward the stairs looked a little naughty and spoke of a guilty conscience but little worry of actual trouble if caught.

Peter said nothing as she directed him to the living room. He doubted she could tell time yet so there would be no point in asking her how long or extensive her father's treatments were. It bothered him how distinctly evasive Mr. Stark was whenever Peter asked about his ailment the previous day. What Peter did know was that Morgan had evidently been awake for a while because the night before there was nothing on the coffee table when he went to bed just before 3 a.m. As the sun rose, there were two huge stacks of blocks covering the table.

"What is this?" he asked in a hushed voice while squatting down beside her as she sat in front the collection.

"Our city," she nodded and pointed to the opposite side. "You build there."

"Do your parents know you're up and doing this?" he asked, following her instruction all the same.

"No," she admitted with a grin.

"Should they?"

"No," she shook her head confidently. "You're my friend."

"I am?" Peter nodded. "Okay. So does that mean you need me to babysit you right now?"

"No," Morgan said and pointed at the blocks. "We build."

"Build?" he repeated. "A city? Like New York City or a city of pyramids or Greek temples?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Those. Do you play piano?"

"No, I can play saxophone and clarinet," he said.

She proceeded to tell him she liked the piano because her father taught her, but her mother said she needed to be quiet because there was a guest in the house. Morgan offered him a pouting face that showed she wasn't pleased with that—whether it was with him or the order, he wasn't sure. There was something about the scrunch to her eyes that startled him. It was strikingly similar to her father when he felt his wishes were not being served. It made Peter smile and quickly acquiesce to her edict regarding construction responsibilities. And that was precisely where he was and what he was doing an hour later when Pepper came downstairs.

"Peter, did she wake you?" Pepper asked eyeing her daughter, who merely grinned in return.

"No," Peter answered as he scrambled to his feet. "I was up already, and she was at my door waiting. I hope you don't mind. We were just, um, building a city… sort of. I guess it's kind of a circus and spaceship now, too, if I was following her directions for the last 15 minutes."

"You don't have to take orders from her," Pepper informed him. "She's like her father. She just thinks she's in charge of everything."

Peter nodded, glad he wasn't breaking any house rules or defying the woman who he got the distinct feeling was consistently in-charge of anything carrying the name Stark.

"Can Peter be my brother, not the baby?" Morgan asked as she looked up from the many towers of blocks they had constructed.

"No," her mother replied. "Before you ask why, it's the same answer as when you asked if Happy could be your brother." Pepper turned to look at Peter who was taken aback by the question so she offered him the answer Morgan already knew. "Only Tony gets to randomly adopt people, and you're already on his list so she doesn't get to make you do double duty."

The little girl frowned and huffed. Peter was still unclear what the problem was with having a baby brother. He was an only child and would have loved to have a sibling. He offered Morgan an apologetic smile that he hoped she understood meant that he would gladly play the role of big brother. As she turned her attention back to her blocks, Peter followed Pepper to the kitchen while trying hard not to grin like a fool at being labeled adopted. Instead, he asked his hostess if she needed any help.

"You're a guest, not the staff," she informed him. "And don't worry about Tony growling again today. He cares a great deal. At times, he may say some harsh things, but they come from a good place in his heart. It just doesn't always sound like it when he speaks. He forgets that adults are not his robots. He spent too many years with Dum-E and U as constant companions. Their lack of offense at his brusque ways reprogrammed his table of basic manners." She groaned. "And now he's got me talking like a software developer."

Peter smiled and shook his head showing he took no offense to the prior day's discussions.

"I don't mind," Peter said. "I figure if someone as important or busy as Mr. Stark takes the time to be mad about something, it must be important."

"You can call him Tony," Pepper noted.

"Uh, he's never actually told me to do that," Peter shrugged.

"He never asks for permission when he decides what to call anyone," she said.

Peter nodded but only to acknowledge her observation rather than his agreement to follow through with it. He then looked toward the stairs before posing the only concern in his mind.

"Um… is Mr. Stark okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"He'll be down in a few minutes," Pepper nodded.

"No," Peter lowered his voice. "I mean, is he _okay__ in general_? He told me that he's got a rare illness. I know it's none of my business, but Mr. Stark is…"

Pepper patted his hand and offered him a watery smile that made him worry more than it assured him.

"He's doing better," she said. "This isn't any different than every other challenge he's faced. Seeing everyone tomorrow will be good for him—just like finally talking to you was. He cares for you a lot. Since he came home, he's missed you. He worries about you, too. I know you care for Tony a great deal so I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do with your life. Just understand that your safety and ability to live a full life is important to him."

Peter nodded as his throat tightened. He said quietly that he understood, but he also felt a duty and obligation to help when there was trouble. Why else would he have the powers and skills he did? Mr. Stark didn't have to ever jump into any fight, but he did because he felt like he must.

"I adore him, but even I know that he's not someone who should be used as an example," Pepper said. "His decisions and actions work for him because of the life he's led. You need to live your life, Peter. Make your choices. Don't try to be Tony. Just be you. You've got a good heart. You know what's right. Don't lose sight of that, and don't let anything—not hero worship or fear—blind you from it. Life is fragile. Be careful what you do with yours."

Peter nodded, feeling somehow a little worse when Pepper spoke than when her husband lectured. When his mentor wasn't pleased, he got angry. He fumed at being defied and then he argued from facts, the way Peter's father might have talked to him. When Pepper expressed worried or disappointed, she was soft about it. She spoke from the heart which made it much harder to hear, not to mention that her words were what he thought his mother might have said to him.

**oOoOo**

Midway through the day, Peter was rescued from Morgan's clutches. Pepper pried the little girl away from the a board game that looked a lot like Candy Land but somehow involved the pieces of two other games and a stuffed bear that Peter was told needed to be called Sir Squishy at all times. He was reasonably certain Morgan was just making up the rules as they went along, which was why he kept losing. Pepper managed to free Peter by informing her daughter that her father was getting jealous because Peter needed to be his friend for a while, too. Mentioning something Tony wanted was the key. Morgan let her hostage go once he promised to push her on her swing later.

Peter followed Tony to the garage and found it was more than just a detached building for storing cars. He noted with interest that the billionaire with a known passion for automobiles only had two in the storage area. In fact, so much of how Tony and Pepper lived was fascinating to Peter. The house was simple, not ostentatious. It wasn't elegantly modern like the magazine photos of Tony's mansion in Malibu had shown. It was a cozy house on a placid lake that happened to have an AI protocol acting as a virtual staffer when summoned.

If the house was simplicity and peace, the workshop/laboratory at the back of the garage was cutting edge modern with a side order of chaos. The space was bright, and there were various stations with a multitude of projects in progress. In the far corner, there was a table closer to the ground covered in crayons and small toys signaling Morgan was a frequent visitor to her father's lair. The rest of it, however, boggled Peter's mind. Unfinished armor stood in an opposite corner, ignored by the in-progress feel of the rest of the room. Gears, mechanical joints, and what looked like myoelectric appendages were in various states of completion.

"Wow," Peter gaped, taking it all in. "This is… What is all of this?"

"What?" Tony scoffed. "You've never been bored?"

"This is bored?" Peter asked.

"When I'm bored, I don't focus," he shrugged. "This is weeks of boredom and Harley yammering a lot distracting me; that's not really important though."

"You're building robots?" Peter noted as he viewed the many parts. "Not armor or anything for the Avengers?"

"Bots don't make Pepper nervous," he confessed. "Plus Morgan likes them. She wants an animatronic dog but keeps pointing at pictures of armadillos when she says how she wants it to look, but I've got to teach her not to crash her helicopter before I make her a pet that she can direct to bite someone."

Peter nodded. He could see some hazy logic to it, but his mind was still overloaded with the multitude of things in the room he would consider toys.

"Are these robots all for Morgan?" he asked.

"No idea," Tony shook his head while fiddling with an elbow joint in front of him. "I don't know fully what any of these will do. It's all conceptual still. Parts that don't go together… yet. Haven't been inspired recently. I have two modes when confined: I get creative, or I get complacent. I'm in category B currently."

While he heard the resignation in Tony's voice, Peter marveled at the components in front of him. If he was able to do anything like this when he was bored, he'd never worry about being busy or successful every. But something about the many half done projects bothered him. Harley had mentioned Tony's scattered thoughts as well. He wondered if it was merely a lack of inspiration as claimed or if it was something more.

"Sir, are you worried about something?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, everything, always," Tony replied. "Lifelong affliction. I just don't have my old coping mechanism of a jet-set lifestyle to keep my mind occupied with hedonism rather than knotting up over global annihilation, personal resurrection, and a future for my kids."

Peter nodded. That was one thing no interview, no report, no story about Mr. Stark ever mentioned: his worry. He came off as confident, clever, and comfortable with chaos. In person, with his guard down, there was certainly a personal assurance that he was right about a great deal, but it was also evident that he achieved that only after a great deal of thinking (whether long-term or rapid assessment). The public impressions also never scratched the surface on how much the man cared about people, both those close to him and perfect strangers. Among the tributes to the man Peter found closest to the Tony Stark he knew was the tale told by the passengers from Air Force One he rescued a decade earlier when the plane was hijacked. The President was a captive; Pepper was a prisoner, yet he refused to leave a dozen people free-falling to their deaths. He snatched every one of them before impact. When they each discussed it, they mentioned their initial terror followed by a giddy sense of victory as they were safely deposited in the water without a single injury among them. Their rescuer gave them all a sense of relief and that they had been part of an amazing adventure rather than the victims of domestic terrorism.

"Sir, is something going on like globally—I mean that would interest the Avengers?" Peter asked. "It just seems strange that you're alive but it's a secret that a lot of people would want to know. You mean a lot to people, everywhere."

"The suit does," Tony replied. "I'm not that guy anymore. Not being trapped here would be nice, but…"

"What do you mean trapped?" Peter asked urgently. "You're not like under house arrest are you?"

He sounded both fearful and offended, prompting Tony to chuckle unexpectedly. He was a man who made light of nearly everything but did not actually laugh often (other than at his daughter's antics, which he was informed by Morgan were always funny even when they got her in trouble for being too rambunctious), but the indignation in Peter's voice was pure hilarity to him. He doubled over and leaned on his drafting bench to remain standing. Peter's face reddened for a moment before he too began chuckling although he wasn't sure why. Tony coughed himself out of his guffaws.

"Uh, yeah, sort of," he replied. "I'm here for my own protection against… I don't know what. Fury knows—and let that be a lesson to you. The guy always has secrets. Sometimes, that's not completely terrible, but other times… He's a spy. Not disclosing the full story is in his DNA. So, the reason I'm on lockdown here in Area 52? Because making my living status public would be dangerous."

"For whom?" Peter asked.

"I admire that you use the proper pronoun there," Tony remarked. "Everyone is the best answer, I guess. Everyone who knows me, anyway. Look, the world at-large doesn't actually need me, Pete. Life's getting back to normal out there. Why throw ball bearings into the gears now?"

Peter shrugged in reply. His life wasn't getting back to normal before Friday. It was going precisely nowhere, a dismal blur of days that had no meaning. What was the point of winning a great battle if you lost what was most important to you in the process? How was that a win? Now, his hero (one of the universe's heroes) was seemingly trapped. How was that an acceptable thank you?

"Are you happy living like this?" Peter asked. "I mean, it's nice here. Quiet. Peaceful. If that's what you want…"

"Peaceful?" Tony grinned then shrugged. "You've never heard Morgan when she's doing a Tae-Bo piano recital with legs flailing along with her fingers." A downcast look then filled his eyes as he looked at his work area again and sighed. "Most days it's fine here. Monotonous, but fine. I guess everyone else in the world is trying to grasp what normal means right now for each of them. I've gotta do the same. They'd probably think spending a few months sitting by a quiet lake would sound pretty good. But me? I like it here, but I like Venice, too. I liked my house in Dubai. I miss Hong Kong and Paris. I want to be on my yacht off the coast of California for a week, and I want Morgan and her brother to experience all of those places, too. They can. I'm just trying to make peace with the idea that I can't be there with them when they do, and that frankly sucks."

He kicked the table leg then gripped the sides of it as his hands shook angrily while the muscles in his jaw locked. He felt a stabbing pain in his head that made him squint and pinch the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to relax.

"But," he relented, "I'm here at least, and that's more important considering the alternative. There's a lesson in there somewhere, kid. The superhero life isn't your own. You can, and often do, lose a lot. Figure out what you're willing to give up, then figure out what you won't—and know that being an Avenger means you don't actually get to have the second category."

"Well, I think it's important that a guy who saved the universe and managed to survive gets to have a life that he chooses after he's done with being an Avenger," Peter offered. "I know you don't want me doing anything for you, but if there's anything at all I can do to help I…"

"Peter," Tony cut him off, "I know you would. I do, and I appreciate it, but I don't want your help with this. That's not because I don't think you're capable but because you didn't listen very closely to the little anti-superhero speech I just gave you. What's got me on Fury's double secret probation is apparently dangerous enough that the other Avengers don't even want my help. So far, Rhodey, Sam, and Bruce are the only ones who know about me. Not Wanda, not Thor, not Barton have an idea. That tells me whatever's weighing on Fury's mind scares him. And if it scares him, it should terrify you—I know it certainly gives me anxiety. So the moral here is: Danger Peter Parker. Stay away."

**oOoOo**

Cap was torn as Saturday bled into Sunday. He'd spent the night at Bucky's side. He was told his friend was doing well all things considered. He was recovering, just not ready to wake up yet. A man without his enhanced healing abilities would have died from his wounds instantly. Cap was grateful for that, but what he had were questions. Lots of them.

Like why didn't Bucky tell him the truth? Why had he kept his activities secret?

Sure, there was the likelihood that Cap would have disagreed and done his best to talk his friend out of kidnapping then harboring Dr. Tanis. He would have called Sam himself and disclosed not just select details but everything.

Maybe.

That was the troubling point.

Would he have done that? Would he have turned Bucky in? Compared to other secrets Cap kept for him in the past, this was minor. Yes, it was wrong to make a man a prisoner and use him as leverage to flush out a worse man. But it wasn't worse than murder by a long-shot, and Bucky had done this recent act of his own free will. Cap was certain his friend thought he was doing the right thing, but so had Cap in the past when hiding his friend's deeds, and he was reminded of how that turned out.

Then on top of that conundrum, there was Coulson's other news: Tony was alive.

There were questions surrounding how it happened, but Cap didn't care. If there was one thing he'd learned his latest go around in life, it was that you didn't judge another chance harshly. Those chances were rare to the point of just about impossible. Tony died doing what Cap himself had thought for years he should have done himself: sacrifice his life to save everyone else. How his lost friend got back from oblivion didn't matter to Cap. Tony was back, and that was good.

So, it was with mixed feelings of guilt over not being the one who ended Thanos and elation that the guy who did managed to survive that Cap arrived at the Stark home mid-morning on Sunday. There were several cars already there. There was also a visible security presence. He nodded to Coulson who appeared to be running the show. A quick discussion revealed that Sam was a guest rather than on the clock that day although his team was stashed in the trees and around the perimeter to ensure there were no gate crashers. Cap approved of the security plan. He just wasn't fully sure why it was necessary. Rabid fans of Tony's was a possibility, but with no one knowing he was alive that was doubtful. The unnamed threat that had Fury's people on alert was obviously the top reason. The trouble was, the Director wasn't saying what that was—at least not to Cap.

He was greeted as he approached the porch by Rhodes, who looked both worried and anxious. They clasped hands as Cap read the man's hesitation.

"How you doing, old man?" Rhodes asked.

"Surprised to be here, but happily so," he replied.

"Sorry about how you found out," Rhodes said. "Sam and I were under orders. He wanted to tell you immediately. Me, too, but…"

"I understand to a point," Cap replied. "I know about mission protocol and need-to-know. I'm still a little in the dark on what the danger is."

"Me, too, that's how complicated it is," Rhodes shrugged. "You know, same old, same old."

He offered an apologetic grin. Cap nodded and looked out over the lake as the bright sun warmed the crisp air and gave the first true signs of spring to the air. It had been a cold, dark, gray winter. Spring crept into the region slowly, like a wounded animal. This was the first hint the season wasn't going to turn around and bite.

"There's something poetic about the unofficial celebration to start Spring including a gathering for this," Cap smiled.

"Just keep resurrection humor to yourself," Rhodes advised. "Pepper's not a fan of it, and Tony thinks he should have monopoly on it. Also, I love the guy and give him his due, but there's no reason to give him a god complex."

He spoke the words, but they were stale as they left his tongue when he mentioned his friend. Cap noted the discomfort and felt he should ask, yet he reminded himself that Tony and Rhodes' friendship was formed decades earlier when both were students at MIT. Like his own friendship with Bucky, something that settled was not his to judge or invade, but his gaze did the asking for him.

"Whatever brought him back, did something to him," Rhodes revealed. "He and I've been… I never quite got my head straight about losing him when there he was again. I'm working on it, but now…"

He explained that Tony was sick with some undiagnosed ailment related to his return. He offered that Banner was working on a cure, but Rhodes had reason to believe there wasn't one and the horizon for hope was growing dark.

"Tony does a good job of pretending he's fine, but I know him too well," Rhodes admitted. "He hides a lot with sarcasm and sinking into his projects, always has. That's how I know that he knows there's trouble ahead. This thing scares him. Hurts, too, I suspect. He looks a little hollow again."

"Like when he returned from Titan?" Cap asked recalling sadly that event and how it led to a five year schism between the rest of the Avengers and the one who proved ultimately to be Earth's greatest defender.

"It worries me that he finally agreed to Pepper's request to have everyone come see him," Rhodes confessed. "Maybe I'm over thinking it, but I'm wondering if he said yes just so we can say goodbye this time."

"Has he said that's what this is?"

"No, the opposite actually," Rhodes replied. "He talks like he believes he's got a future, but this is Tony. I know him. My gut tells me that's a front to keep Pepper believing that he'll beat this thing. Normally, she'd see it too, but she's focused on other things, and when he's with her I think he convinces himself that he'll be okay."

He shrugged as his face twisted with premature guilt. He cleared his throat and recommended Cap head inside. He reported that Sam was inside with a few others. Rhodes drew the short straw and was headed to the perimeter for a quick check-in.

"Something going on?" Cap asked.

"Yeah," Rhodes smiled as he walked off the porch. "Wanda's almost here. I'm a little worried the guys on sentry duty will try to flirt with her. I don't want to do the paperwork that'll follow whatever happens after that."

Cap waved to him and approached the door and was prepared to knock when it opened abruptly, but there was no body on the other side. Or so Cap thought until a giggle nearer the floor caught his eye. He looked down to see a pair of familiar dark eyes staring at him with a grin on her face.

"What's the password?" Morgan asked boldly lifting her chin and rocking up on her toes.

"I wasn't given a password," Cap replied kindly. "Are you certain there is one?"

"Um," she chewed her lip then turned and shouted over her shoulder. "Peter! What's our password?"

Within seconds a lanky teenager with a hesitant expression answered her summons and stared at Cap with bewildered eyes. Morgan began hopping excitedly and begging Peter to tell her the password.

"There isn't one," he replied nervously. "Um, hi. I'm…"

"Peter Parker," Cap answered as the kid seemed to forget his name the longer he stared. "We met for the first time in Germany."

"Germany?" he repeated.

"Brooklyn," Cap pointed at himself then at Peter. "Queens. I was in uniform that time."

"Cap… Captain America, uh, I mean Captain Rogers?" Peter gaped and blinked as he recognized the voice. "You're… You're… You look different than you did at the… um… the last time I saw you here."

"Life's that way sometimes," Cap smiled as the teen ushered him into the house. "How are you doing? Still in school?"

The teen rambled for a few seconds about nearing the end of his last year of high school, but his dissertation was cut short as Morgan decided to begin scaling him much the way Peter himself could crawl up the side of a building. He struggled to keep her from falling as she giggled and trilled her excitement at the journey. He blushed as he looked to Cap.

"She's made me her best friend or favorite toy over the last 36 hours," Peter said.

Cap nodded and patted the boy on the shoulder as he heard Sam call to him. He drifted further into the house, taking in the different atmosphere from the previous times he visited. The first time was to ask Tony to help them pull off a miracle. He initially refused, leaving Cap despairing but understanding. The second time was worse. He'd stood in that living room and watched his friend speak from beyond the grave about accepting his final fate if it arrived sooner than he expected. The message was mostly for Morgan, but the words were also meant as a farewell for his friends. The house was rigid and the air heavy that day.

Not this time.

Morgan's laughter mixed with Peter's mildly wary warnings about her acrobatics and what was unmistakably his delight in being adored by his mentor's child breathed refreshing life and liveliness into the rooms. Cap continued on and spotted Pepper beckoning him forward. The sight of her maternal figure stopped him in his tracks. He blinked and gasped then smiled as he approached her.

"Two surprises from the Stark family in one weekend," he smiled.

"Steve," she held out her arms and hugged him. "Thank you for coming. I know Tony should have reached out himself, but he's… Tony. Plus, he's got a lot on his mind."

Cap looked at her with wide eyes and nodded.

"With good reason, it seems," he agreed.

"Ah, yes," she patted her belly. "If you're keeping up on any of the internet scandals or tabloid headlines then: Rumors confirmed (partly). This is what it looks like, but it isn't the result of a grief-fueled fling with Thor."

Cap laughed generously, pleased at both her news and the happiness that enveloped her like a halo. Her smile was bright, and her eyes were no longer dulled by a flood of tears she held in to keep up a resilient image for the sake of visiting mourners.

"I'm happy for you," he said. "You look radiant, if that doesn't sound too old-fashioned."

"It sounds flattering," she smiled. "Thank you."

"You and the baby are doing well?"

She nodded and let him know both were healthy and that Morgan was doing fine also. If the little girl felt brave later, she might even play the piano for everyone. Pepper just couldn't guarantee it would be a song anyone recognized or that would ever end.

"What about Tony?" he asked with concern. "Rhodes told me he hasn't been well."

"He's been okay recently, but Bruce hasn't been able to solve this mystery yet," she said with the hint of a tremor in her voice despite the confident smile on her face. "But Bruce is an amazing chemist so it's only a matter time before he finds the missing piece to the puzzle. Tony pitches him ideas. Medicine isn't his field of expertise, but apparently the problem is a chemistry and physics one at its core—and he is good in one of those and scary good in the other—so while I remain anxious, I'm also hopeful."

"And in the middle of this, you're having a baby," Cap noted.

"I used to say no one does chaos better than Tony," she said with a touch of exasperated pride. "I've done a lot to keep that to a minimum over the years, but on some level I'm an enabler."

Cap nodded and remarked he would hope for the best for on all fronts for the Stark family but admitted he felt this whole circumstance was a heavy burden to place on the shoulders of an expectant mother.

"Maybe, but I've known Tony too well for too long to ever expect life with him to be simple or easy," Pepper replied. "I can say with total sincerity and extraordinary relief that everyone who lives in this house is infinitely better today than the last time you were here. Again, I'm sorry we didn't contact you sooner. We needed time…. He needed time."

"That's understandable," Cap said. "Where is he?"

She hesitated then nodded toward the windows onto the section of porch that faced the lake. Three men, two in combat fatigues and another in a brown robe, had their backs to the house forming a wall of flesh and bone. Tony was, evidently on the other side of the human barrier. Before Cap could head in that direction, Pepper warned him of the ramifications of the five year memory gap, pointedly drawing his attention to unresolved feelings Tony harbored, but she was stopped before she got into much detail.

"Tony doesn't recall that he and I exchanged olive branches?" Cap guessed and received a nod. "Before he stowed away on that ship heading to Titan, he had the phone I sent to him. It was in his pocket and fully charged. He was carrying it with him that day and I have to believe, given that until Bruce appeared, he had no reason to think it was anything other than an ordinary day. Even if it was just for a precaution or fear that he had it when Bruce told me he did, I knew that Tony and I were fine. We did need to talk. I said my peace to him in a letter, but I owed him the courtesy of letting him say what he needed to say to me. That was the personal side; the fact that he kept the phone with him and active tells me we were already fine professionally."

Pepper nodded. The day Tony jumped into the fight in New York, they were making wedding plans and his mind was on starting a family. There was no ill cloud of bad feelings, and his mood was sufficiently light that she was going to raise the issue of inviting Cap to the wedding (while trying to figure out how to get the man back into the country without getting him arrested).

"It surprises people to learn that for as outgoing and social as Tony seems, he's actually more accomplished at avoidance," Pepper said. "Proof of this to be found in the fact that he's been outside talking to two of his security detail for 20 minutes rather than in here with guests who came to see him. I sent Wong outside to try and convince him to come in."

Cap nodded.

"Do you believe the theory about Tony being from another reality other than ours?" he asked.

Pepper shook her head firmly and informed him that the experts were wrong about that.

"I know the theoretical science is against me, but I also know that," she pointed toward the spot where Tony stood, "is my husband. He's the same man I worked for, lived with, and married. He's the one whose hand I squeezed when Morgan was born, who gave me this ring, and said I do to me. I know it in my heart and my soul. I can't explain how he is here, but I'm beyond wanting an explanation. I just want him well again."

Cap nodded. It sounded like a reasonable request to him. He confessed to not understanding the science of the miracle that returned Tony either, but he was willing to trust Pepper's instincts.

"If you say he's our Tony, then that's good enough for me," he told her. "Does he know about the final battle?"

She nodded and said he was told and read some reports but had no independent memory of it.

"Well, I'm going to do what I didn't get the opportunity to do then," Cap said. "I'm going to thank him, if that's alright."

"Be prepared for him to respond with a sarcastic remark then blatantly and abruptly (possibly even rudely) change the subject," she warned.

"So that's more confirmation that he is our Tony," Cap smiled then walked toward the door leading to the porch.

**oOoOo**


	25. Chapter 25

**oOoOo**

Cap's arrival on the porch broke up the discussion between Tony and his trio. Brief introductions were made (with Cap giving his cover name of Roger Stevens) with the men in uniform. Both men regularly guarded the home and were among the few on the detail who knew he was there. Others never got close enough to the home to see who was being guarded. The two men, both former military, had been Tony's personal guards while he was held at Camp Delta. It seemed one of them was also learning how to rebuild a motorcycle with Tony's help. The men departed after the introduction. Wong also bowed out, claiming he was challenged to battle of wits and will by Morgan upon meeting her when she suggested they play a game she called Battleship Candy Land.

"A little advice," Tony nodded to him, "when she uses the dice nothing good happens. Also red squares are lava—that's my fault—so avoid them. Don't ask about the battleship—there isn't one. Oh, and always be polite to the bear or you get penalized. Learn from my mistakes, Wong. I wish you luck and good grace in your imminent defeat."

The sage warrior of the mystic arts bowed reverently before departing. Cap remained, looking calmly at Tony, who became agitated in his movements when no words were immediately spoken by his guest.

"You do know how to clear a room… or a porch in this instance," Tony remarked tensely. "Too bad you weren't here earlier. Ollie, the twitchy one who just left, was looking for advice on politely dealing with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. Maybe he should have asked you for some Solomon type wisdom. You look like you've been around since the bible was written."

"Is that your way of dismissing me so we don't talk?" Cap wondered without making any move to leave.

"That's my way of making a perfectly legitimate old joke, followed by you trampling on it," Tony explained. "Don't guys your age need a cane or an oxygen tank?"

"As you once told me," Cap replied, "I'm rather spry for a man my age."

"I did?" Tony questioned. "You mean me or the other guy who used to be here?"

"So far, I agree with Pepper that you and the other guy are the same guy," Cap said.

Tony nodded and leaned on the railing.

"Agreeing with Pepper is usually a smart move, but on this…," he shrugged. "I don't know, and seeing that I'm supposed to be an expert in some aspects of this, that's a little scary."

"The unknown always is," Cap said sagely. "That never stopped you from facing it before."

"Okay," Tony shook his head, "you're wearing a Mr. Rogers sweater, but you're not that Mr. Rogers. Or are you? Did you get that reference? If not, I can call Morgan out here. Thanks to Youtube and a Tom Hanks movie, she's conversant. She also wants her own trolley and for the house to spin like Lady Elaine's. I'm working on both of those."

Cap chuckled dryly and let him know that he was familiar with Fred Rogers's television program as he had raised children and grandchildren on this go around.

"Morgan is a clever and beautiful child," he said. "You're very lucky."

"I know," Tony nodded. "Too lucky probably."

"Or just getting what you've earned," Cap replied. "Congratulations on the new baby as well. Pepper seems happy. I know you're still suffering some after effects from whatever brought you back, but I have faith that you and Bruce can figure out this ailment of yours. I doubt there are many scientific mysteries this team can't solve if it works together."

Tony scoffed and wondered if that was a subtle reminder not to do a Lone Ranger act. Feeling chastised, Tony let Cap know he recalled previous lectures on that point clearly.

"That isn't what I meant," Cap shook his head. "I was merely voicing my confidence in your collective abilities."

"I'm being defensive, huh?" Tony frowned. "We… you and I that is… we never… As far as I remember anyway, we never reached any peaceful ground. I've read what we all did, and I gather you and I buried the hatchet—and not in each other. Surprising."

Cap nodded.

"Tony, about how we left things—what you remember, I mean," he began. "I know, to you, our… altercation was…"

"More like celebrity death match," Tony cut in. "I should get credit for lasting every round going two-on-one with you and the Bond villain. You didn't bring your cyborg bestie as your date, did you? I have a rule against Morgan having brunch with the Terminator."

Cap sighed. The pain he saw in Tony's eyes when they went toe-to-toe years earlier was still fresh in his expression. When they had made peace just before making plans to travel to the past, Tony had said he found the anger and resentment corrosive and wanted it to stop. Cap hoped that sentiment could be found again.

"You're entitled to your feelings," Cap nodded. "I just wish you could understand that the man who did those things wasn't really Bucky."

"Those things?" Tony scoffed. "The murdering of my parents _things_? Yeah, gotcha." He huffed and ran his hands down his face then wrung them tightly before staring at the lake again. "I don't want to debate this again. I've done things out of compulsion that I didn't question at the time and they turned badly. The differences are that I was never trying to hurt anyone, and you never gave me the benefit of the doubt that you give him. So the double standard? Ouch."

Cap nodded and agreed it was a fair observation. He, too, came to a similar conclusion after their devastating fight. He was willing to shoulder some of the blame and said so.

"Well, my biggest mistake was thinking you and I were truly friends," Tony replied. "I never thought we were the best of pals, but I thought I could trust you with the big stuff—the important stuff. My mistake there thinking our association had greater tensile strength than against-your-will, occasional coworker. Stark family legacy there, I guess. My mom was a stranger to you, but Dad? You and your pal knew him. You were… Oh, see? My bad. I was going to say _friends_ again."

The tone in his voice was sharp, but the volume remained low. Cap sensed more fear and grief than anger, although there was plenty of that as well.

"Howard was my friend," Cap said. "Bucky's, too. Without Howard, I could have never have rescued Bucky from the prison camp in Italy. As for you, I was… I still am your friend, Tony. Protecting Bucky was instinct and I stand by it, but I was wrong to keep the truth about what Hydra made Bucky do to your parents from you. I'm sorry you ever saw that video."

"Which is part of the problem," Tony said. "You're sorry I know—not that he did it; not that they were murdered, not really. You're sorry your friend's rotten past snuck into daylight."

"Tony," he sighed. "We were manipulated by a man seeking vengeance for what happened to his family."

"Which happened because of Ultron, which was my fault," Tony seethed. "Okay, as long as I'm still the only one in the wrong here. Gotcha."

"No, not just you," Cap shook his head. "It was never that black and white. After so many years, I can finally see the gray that pervades so much of life. That includes Bucky's actions and yours. There's usually more than one side or one factor to consider. It's not always a clean and easy blame to lay down accurately."

Tony fumed at that. He took a lot of heat for the things done in his name by his weapons—no gray allowed. He didn't like it, but it was one of the prices he had to pay for his actions, his business partner's actions, and his father's actions.

"I was trying to spare you pointless heartache by not telling you what they made Bucky do," Cap said. "I know it seemed like I was just protecting him—and I don't deny I was doing that in part—but I was trying to do the impossible: protect two of my friends from their pasts, something neither of them could control nor change but that would harm them both more than either deserved."

Tony looked down as he shook his head and gripped the railing tightly as his knuckles turned white. His mother's final words (calling in vain to his already deceased father) still echoed in his mind since viewing the tape. The fear and panic in her voice tore through him as deeply as the realization that she knew what was about to happen to her.

"He's basically family to you, right?" he remarked. Cap nodded but refrained from added (despite his urge) to state so were the Avengers. "Well, your buddy's targets that day were my parents: my actual family. We had our issues—Dad and I especially—but he and Mom were all I had in the world. They were the people I loved. They were taken from me suddenly… Brutally and intentionally, it turns out. Getting to watch it happen a couple decades later when I was trying to help a friend get out of a tough spot really solidified it as truly a Top 10 memory."

"I know how much that hurt you," Cap said. "I'm sorry for that. Bucky is sorry as well. Of all the things Hydra made him do, that memory hurts him the most."

"Yeah, poor guy," Tony scoffed. "I feel for him. He said he remembered them. Well, I remembered them, too, just not like that. It's great sharing that with him: the memory of him fracture Dad's skull and then thrusting his corpse back it the driver's seat while Mom cried out with her last breath for him to help her before getting strangled."

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to push back the memory of that wretched video tape as he heard Cap sigh.

"Bucky genuinely liked your father," he reported. "He had no control, but he still feels terrible about what he did. He accepts that he can't change the past, but he will never forgive himself."

"Good," Tony scowled. "We'll finally have something in common other than being the last two people on the planet who saw Howard and Maria Stark alive."

He felt pain behind his eyes briefly then ran a hand over his face as he felt it grow warm. As he pulled his palm back, it came away slick and red. He quickly fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood in what he hoped was a smooth, secretive motion only to realize he'd failed.

"Is that blood?" Cap asked taking an urgent step toward him.

"It's nothing," Tony replied shaking his head. "It just a result of my blood pressure skyrocketing. That happens when I talk about misunderstood assassins or to people who don't understand discrete mathematics. I'm guessing you fit both categories."

Cap sighed and stepped closer.

"Joking isn't going to distract me," he said. "Are you alright? Should I get Pepper?"

"No," Tony said quickly, blinking to keep his vision straight. "Don't mention this to her. She gets upset easily right now. It's a hormone thing. This is nothing. It's happened a few times so it's old news."

Cap nodded as he accepted the story. The moment had been tense, and he even felt his pulse quicken. Tony seemed to be fine otherwise.

"I think," Cap began, "for your sake especially, it's time to let all of this go. I know forgetting it isn't possible, but the anger isn't helping you. The past is behind you. You should focus on the future, Tony."

"This past December 16 was the first time I didn't think about the anniversary on the actual day," he noted dryly with a shrug. "Maybe being dead, or no longer dead, was somehow healing. That or it's just more amnesia."

Cap chuckled softly and reluctantly at the wistful an inappropriate sarcasm. Tony was the only man he knew who could take something dreadfully serious, deadly serious even, and make light of it as though it was merely a simple and innocent observation, like looking out a window and checking the weather. Reactions like that made understanding him difficult. It convinced Cap for years that the man did not possess depth or a heart of much merit. It was only after a lot of reflection of his own that he saw the behavior for what most of it was: armor. Tony wore his gold and red suit into the obvious battles. For the personal ones, he robed himself in sarcasm and entrenched his position with facts. He could deflect examination that way and wear the facade of an obnoxious, arrogant jackass to keep most people from seeing he cared a lot more than he wanted the rest of the world to know.

"I've relived that day countless times in my head," Tony continued while staring into the distance. "I barely spoke to either of them before they left. I hadn't even talked to Dad in nearly six months. I'd just gotten home from the CERN."

"CERN?" Cap asked.

"Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire," Tony answered. "The European center for nuclear research in Switzerland. I was a research fellow working for a semester on the Super Proton-Antiproton Collider. It was the leading particle accelerator in the world at the time."

"At 17 you were in Switzerland playing with atoms?" Cap nodded and chuckled at the insanity of a prodigy's life. "Do you know what I was doing at 17?"

"Uh, 1935, height of the Great Depression?" Tony's face twisted as he considered the possibilities. "I'm gonna say dividing your time between school, working, and being a short, scrappy, asthmatic, sanctimonious brat who got his ass kicked in alleyways. It's just a guess. Dad might have mentioned your humble origins one or... two thousand times."

He paused and cut his eyes to the side to see his remark earned him acknowledgement in the form of a halted grin followed by a heavy sigh. Tony then shrugged as he continued.

"I wasn't old enough to legally work for Dad's company yet because of the age requirement to get the background check," he explained. "So I needed to do something to pass the time. When you graduate from MIT at 17, the world kind of has lofty expectations. Dad didn't think working on my tan at our Italian villa was sufficient for someone who had two new bachelor's degrees, so when the guys who won the Nobel Prize in Physics a few years earlier called to see if I had any plans..."

"You went to Europe to split atoms?"

Tony half nodded and shrugged.

"There were also friendly European women," he admitted with a smirk that faded. "Then I came home for Christmas. It was a long trip back. Mom had me fly a commercial airline rather than send the company plane. She wanted me to surprise Dad by arriving early. He didn't know I was coming so he made plans for them to go to the Caribbean for a week before Christmas. I got home a day later than she planned. I got stuck at Heathrow for 12 hours because of mechanical issues. I whipped when I arrived so I fell asleep on the couch. Mom was playing piano for me when Dad got home. I guess he was surprised to see me. I don't know for certain because we didn't really talk. He woke me up and started giving me grief—the usual. We never knew how to talk to each other. That was all I got: 30 seconds of sarcasm from him and a brief goodbye from Mom. It was Monday evening. They were supposed to be back a week later. Instead, I buried them the day they were due home, two days before Christmas."

Cap bowed his head. That was the part of the story that was not recorded on video or captured in a report. Once the assassination (ruled for the public as a simple accident) was complete, no one else involved cared what happened to the surviving member of the Stark family. Cap now remembered well the evening the phone call came to his home. He had known all day it would, and there was nothing he could do about it. Peggy answered it then gasped in shock. She was terribly shaken to learn that her cohort for decades, the man who frustrated her as much as she adored him, was gone along with his wife. Whether she knew it was an accident or not, Cap never learned because he could never bring himself to ask her.

He had, however, gone to the funeral without Peggy's knowledge. She sat with the packed house of high-powered men and politicians along with dignitaries from all over the world. Cap stood at the back unseen on the afternoon of December 23rd. He'd watched Tony, pale, emotionless, and functioning through shock, walk alone behind the two caskets. He stared away from the coffins with haunted eyes that did not shed a single tear, but he wore an expression that clearly said he was drowning in them all the same. It struck Cap powerfully at that moment how very young Tony was and how alone he was as well. The incognito American icon was comforted to see two of the three people in the trio surrounding Tony throughout the ceremony. Watching Howard's then-loyal but soon-to-be murderously greedy business partner Obadiah Stane put his hand on Tony's shoulder drove a spike of anger through Cap's gut as he thought about what the man would do to Howard's company and how he would turn on Tony in the future. Cap only held himself in check by reminding himself that he needed to let events unfold on their own no matter how much stress and suffering they would cause (yet another lesson in the gray area of ethics he learned). He was relieved when Stane moved to sit with the other members of the Stark Industries Board of Directors. It was then that two others took up positions on Tony's flanks like bodyguards: Edwin Jarvis (former family butler and Tony's caretaker much of his early life who was recently arrived from his retirement home in England) and former MIT classmate turned newly-commissioned Air Force Lieutenant James Rhodes. The memory raised a lump in Cap's throat.

"Tony, I am sorry," he offered but Tony didn't seem to hear.

"After the police and Obie came to the house and told me what happened, I called Rhodey," Tony recalled in a dead voice. "Everyone was running around trying to calm the Board of Directors, talk to attorneys, field calls from half the planet offering condolences or getting quotes for the news. They forgot I was there, which wasn't surprising because that's pretty much how Dad behaved most of the time. I wanted to be away from it all and all of them. I knew Rhodey was going to be in New York for the week visiting a cousin of his. He'd written to me in Europe and gave me the number at his cousin's place. He wanted me to call once I got home so I did. I told him what happened and that I didn't want to stay at the house. He said he'd come out to get me, but I said I'd come to him. I hung up before he could argue with me. He's actually the one who called Jarvis for me. While he was doing that, I got in my car and left. I was driving toward I-495 to head to the Bronx when I decided to turn onto Route 27 and headed toward Mill Pond Road, the crash site."

"Why?" Cap asked. "Surely the scene was cleared up at that point."

"Yeah, but there was no ice on the road," Tony answered innocently. "No snow even. It was a week before Christmas, and everything was skill green. I wanted to know what caused the accident. I didn't understand how my dad wrecked a car when the roads were clear. I'd just seen them and there was no reason for… I stood there, at the spot, and all I saw were marks in the tree where the car hit and some short skid marks on the road. I told myself what eventually I read in the police report: a deer must have jumped out of the bushes and caused the crash. I made myself believe that Bambi killed my parents. I managed to channel some of my grief into hating Disney for a while."

He offered a mirthless smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then shook his head and rolled his shoulders. Cap wondered why Tony went to the scene if the police report ruled it was a freak accident. His response was what Cap should have expected: He needed to see it to understand it, to dissect it scientifically. He knew the road, had ridden along it and driven it countless times in his years of living on Long Island.

"I took measurements," he added. "Sitting there in the car, freezing, I did calculations. I did everything I could to empirically assess what occurred and make a determination. I was left with just the cops' completely unsatisfying but impossible to debunk ruling of freak accident. None of it matter of course because the following Monday, whether I liked the conclusion or not, I went to their funeral surrounded by 500 people all saying they were sorry. Do you know what was in my head the whole time?"

"What if you'd been with them, would you be dead too?" Cap guessed. "I think that's natural, but I'm glad it wasn't the case. Considering all you've accomplished in your life, that would have been a universal tragedy."

"Glad we agree Mr. Vice Grip would have killed me too without hesitation," Tony scoffed but without much anger. "But that's not what I thinking. Honestly, what could have happened to me wasn't in my mind at all. How's that fit into your charge that I only think of myself?"

Cap sighed and assured Tony that was not what he thought of him. Tony kept speaking as if Cap never answered him nor was a response of any interest to him.

"I was thinking about the scene and how there were variables I didn't have," he revealed. "I thought that if I'd been there when it happened, then I'd have my answer. I'd know what happened. I would have seen it, and I'd know the missing x-factor. That's all I wanted. I'm a scientist. I just want answers to questions I pose—that's all. I don't have to like the answers. I just need them hold up to scrutiny and for the equations to check. I don't do the bargaining part of grief. It's pointless because it's not logical. They were gone. Nothing I said or did would change that. I just needed to know the causality for the why. I've gotta tell ya, I've held some unflattering opinions about my father, but the possibilities of an ambush, murder, and espionage never crossed my mind. Why would they? I had no clue about half of his history. I barely knew him because we never talked. I never measured up to his expectations, and he couldn't seem to get far enough away from me. I made life easy for the both of us by avoiding him because I couldn't bear the weight of his perpetual disappointment. You two had a lot in common that way."

"Tony," Cap sighed. "I haven't always agreed with you, but I never judge you to be..."

"On a good day, Dad and I traded sarcastic remarks," he cut him off as though he did not hear Cap speaking. "Then he left me forever, so I shoved it all into a little dark hole in my mind until I saw that tape…"

Cap nodded, expecting to hear how Bucky's conversion by Hydra might not be his fault but that didn't mean the man wasn't dangerous. Recent activities would seem to indicate there was some truth to that assessment, Cap figured. His friend exercised bad judgment when taking Dr. Tanis hostage. It was a far cry from being used as a weapon to kill SHIELD's top scientist, but it still showed a questionable thought process even when considered in the most charitable light. However, the story continued on a track he didn't anticipate.

"After I saw that video, all I could think of was that she knew," Tony said, an undercurrent of pure anger in his hushed, painful words. "My mom knew it wasn't an accident. She knew her husband had just been murdered, and she knew she was next. It's bad enough that her last moments were painful, but now I know they were also terrifying."

Cap nodded, chastised by the assessment. He found it believable and heartrending.

"Tony, I'm sorry for what you lost," he apologized. "Bucky is sorry for what he took."

Tony rubbed the heels of his hand into his eyes and forced a deep breath down his throat as a stray cloud covered the sun and instantly made the air chilly. Across the lake, blue sky reigned and gave a promise it would return momentarily.

"Yeah, well, talking doesn't change what happened," Tony cleared his throat as his shoulders relaxed. "Plus, I'm too damn tired to fight about it anymore. I just… I had to say what I had to say since, as far as I know, the last time we chewed on this subject we tried to beat the hell out of each other."

Cap nodded and reached his hand forward and placed on the man's shoulder. Tony didn't jerk away or turn his head to acknowledge the gesture. He just remained shivering in the shadow of the clouds as he looked toward the sunny spot in the distance that was struggling to reach them.

"I know your memory gap makes it feel like our falling out wasn't that long ago," Cap said. "Some days, I feel that way too about the bad stuff, but what happened between us is ancient history to me."

Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Obvious gaping hole here begging for an old joke," he offered, tilting his head as he offered a half shrug. "I'm doing my best to resist."

Cap chuckled suddenly and shook his head. That earned him a raised eyebrow look from Tony of skepticism.

"The way you're standing and how you just lifted your chin…," Cap replied to the unvoiced question. "You reminded me of Howard. I know your relationship with him was complicated, but you're a lot like the man he was when I knew him."

Tony tilted his head that didn't say one way or another whether he thought the remark a compliment, an insult, or simply found it irrelevant.

"Rhodey showed me a report you wrote about our little tango through time that said I apparently spoke to Dad when we jumped backward," Tony noted. "That might have been nice to remember… or experience. I think."

"You and I didn't talk about how that went because there wasn't time before Thanos attacked, but from what I saw you seemed pleased with the encounter," Cap reported. "No matter what you recall of your relationship with Howard, he was proud of you—always. He bragged about you often, even when you frustrated him."

"Well, I did that a lot," Tony remarked. "The frustrating part."

"Took part his prized motorcycle like it was a toy puzzle when you were 11," Cap nodded as began listing the antics that rose in his mind.

"I put most of it back together before he sent me back to school early," Tony recalled.

"Destroyed the garage roof by setting off a rocket prematurely while still inside," Cap noted.

"They were fireworks not an Atlas Missile," Tony argued. "And the roof wasn't destroyed by me. The fire department did that."

"Hacked the Pentagon when you were 13," Cap finished.

"Okay, guilty, but I was 12 not 13," Tony corrected him. "It's a technicality. It was a week before my 13th birthday—an end of school year dare-and the Pentagon wanted to hire me... after they decided not to put me in jail."

"Your father said no to them," Cap recalled. "He didn't want you working on protecting nuclear codes when you weren't yet old enough to see an R-rated movie."

_"_Ah yes," Tony huffed, "the movie rating comparison. That was the patented Howard Stark parenting euphemism for '_immature_' and '_he's grounded_'. Seems fair and equitable, doesn't it? Crack a hundred million dollar national security program, lose your bike and library privileges for the summer. So if you heard all that, you broke the _Back to the Future_ rules and had a chat with him during your _part deux._"

Cap shook his head and explained he never encountered his old friend during his second chance with Peggy. He heard only about Howard from Peggy herself, who relayed Howard's news about his son often.

"He was proud of you, Tony," Cap said. "He just didn't know how to say it or show you. Peggy would get frustrated with him for it. She always suspected it was some form of fear, which brings me to what I came out here to say. I have children of my own and grandchildren, too. Before I had my children, I thought I understood duty and obligation. What I didn't understand was having a competing priority."

He reiterated that he was raised at a time when duty to one's country came before everything else because the government was believed to be good and trustworthy. Back then, he had never lived through a time when his government was revealed as corrupt, made devil's bargains, and put the lives of its people and its own ideals to the side for power and profit. He'd now watched a century unfold and seen so much of what he held dear to be revealed as little more than a flimsy façade that begged to be questioned and revolted against at times. That, too, added to his ability to see those fine but troubling shades of gray that he never knew existed previously.

"I've spent a lifetime waiting for Thanos to happen then be defeated," Cap sighed. "Knowing what I know, as a father, I can only hope that I would have had your strength and fortitude to do what you did last fall, taking the chance to lose all of this. I have to say even the thought of losing what I had with Peggy…. It's too much to ask any man. So, I've wanted to say something to you. I mean, I have said it, but you weren't around to hear it until now: I'm so proud of you and proud to know you. What you accomplished in your life, what you did to help us when you had a life with your family on the line, and then going into that last battle… Tony, whether you believe it or not, I never stopped being your friend and when the battle was over, I was never more proud to call you my friend. I mourned you as a friend and a fallen hero."

A single tear raced down Cap's cheek as he reached for and shook Tony's hand with both of his. He nodded firmly. Tony looked lost.

"I don't know personally about any of the Thanos finale so…," he shrugged as he stepped back. "If you believe Pepper, I was there but just forgot. If you believe everyone else, I wasn't there. Either way, I'm I'm the guy you should be thanking. I hear that guy was as handsome and charming, too, so I understand mistaking me for him, but I think he beats me in the hero category."

Cap shook his head and looked squarely into Tony's dark, uncertain eyes with his own crinkled and faded blue ones.

"You don't remember it—and that's probably a good thing—but you did it," he assured him. "I feel blessed for what I was able to do afterward—that was possible for me because of what you did for all of us—but I never wanted the price for all that to be your life. We didn't always see eye to eye, but I respected you."

Tony offered an expression reeking of doubt.

"Sounds like a little revisionist history there," he accused. "Maybe at the end I eked out some, but not when we first met. That I remember clearly. Maybe your age addled brain doesn't but…"

"I remember it just fine," Cap smiled. "Sometimes our worst reactions come out during stressful situations. A few heated words on a helicarrier in a tense moment do not encompass my opinion of you."

"Really?" he smirked. "Even I know your original assessment of me was fairly accurate the day we met."

Cap sighed and thought back to those original encounters. He shook his head again.

"No, I think your response about who you are was the right one," he said.

Tony scoffed and smirked.

"Let's step back from this or we'll end up hugging," Tony quipped, "then you'll end up with a brittle bone fracture, and I'll hemorrhage to death from vascular ruptures. Both of those will ruin Peppers brunch plans."

Cap paused and asked with sincerity for a rundown of the illness he heard about several times but knew nothing about in actuality. Tony was glib at first but then offered a simple explanation about his cells being out of magnetic alignment with the gravitational forces of the planet.

"That's causing my body to literally tear itself apart one nucleus wall at a time," he shrugged as though it did not concern him greatly. "It's a progressive degeneration. We're slowing it by introducing counter measures into my bloodstream, but it's not a cure. In fact, there is no cure short of atomizing me and reconstructing me one isotope at a time. Even Wakanda doesn't have that technology—Bruce checked. He's not giving up, but I'm aware of the odds."

Cap reminded him that he managed to beat odds of over 14 million to one. In fact, he'd done it twice—and returning from being dead was such long odds it was considered impossible. That, Cap felt, was evidence that the odds were not something Tony needed to fear. Tony shook his head. People never fully understood statistics.

"As a scientist and mathematician, I feel compelled to tell you that's not how probability works," he said. "In fact, the more often you beat the odds, the more likely you are the next time not to beat them. There's a statistical formula that proves it."

"I learned my lesson a long time ago never to bet against a man named Stark," Cap asserted. "Speaking those carrying that name, or rather those who soon will, do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?"

He knew he'd steered the conversation correctly when Tony relented a genuine and uncomplicated smile. He nodded and let it be known that Morgan would have a brother. She wasn't sure she wanted one full time. She let her parents know that he could visit in the winter and stay over on holidays, but she was iffy on anyone interrupting her unfettered time with mother and father. She was looking to parlay special ownership of Peter and definitely was not interested in sharing Happy. Tony found that endearing rather than territorial and remarked that he never liked sharing Jarvis with his father, referring to the man who worked for the Stark family in Tony's youth.

"I'm certain you at least heard of him on your second go round," Tony remarked.

Cap nodded and stated he never knew when he was supposed to admit to or mention anything for fear of consequences or repercussions. Tony assured him that the continuity would take care of itself.

"Whatever you did in the past is already done," he said. "I never met you prior to Stuttgart so we didn't cross paths previously in my life. No harm done."

"Alright," Cap relented. "I did follow your life closely through Peggy's contact with your father and later in the news."

"And you didn't send me an anonymous letter on proper decorum, abstinence, or language etiquette for interviews?" Tony gaped. "That's astounding. If you tell me you became a hippie during the '60s, I'm calling you a liar or having you checked for being an impostor."

Cap assured him that he refrained from participating in the lives of anyone he initially met after he was discovered in the Arctic. He knew how everyone would turn out so he let the future unfold the way it was supposed to.

"I was taken aback when I watched your press conference when you returned from Afghanistan in 2008," he admitted. "The content of it was not in my briefing materials about you before we met. I think if it had been, I might have been a little more understanding and a little less…"

"Of a dick?" Tony suggested with a shrug then sighed as he received a stern look. "I know: language. Actually, it's good you didn't see that announcement. If we'd gotten along better, that probably would have given me even more issues later on. Like you said, the future arrived as it was supposed to so that it remained unknown until became the past."

Cap shook his head and confessed still being baffled by that explanation. However, the gist of it did make sense to him even if discussion of it made his head spin. Going back had helped him understand Tony much better. He used the example of Jarvis, the actual man, to highlight that. After learning about the man and who he was to Tony, Cap understood better why Tony trusted the computerized version so much when he found his AI was fighting Ultron.

"You programmed him as not just your assistant but also to serve in the same capacity as your caretaker did for so many years," he revealed. "He was your speed bump, your foil, and your guardian."

"Yeah," Tony huffed. "The Jiminy Cricket I ignored so we got Ultron."

"Without Ulton, we'd never have had Vision," Cap pointed out.

"Or destroyed Sovokia," Tony pointed out, "which prompted the UN to draft the Accords. It's a bad domino line up no matter what angle you use to come at it."

Cap shook his head and marveled at the web of consequences Tony wove around every one of his actions. It was a deadly snare that was impossible to escape.

"Is that how it is for you?" he wondered, thinking this was probably the worst thing Howard ever did—raising his son with such distance while letting him think it was his fault. "Is every advancement tied to a mistake or a fault? Does every success have to have a corresponding detriment? That's a hard way to live, Tony."

He shrugged and explained it as the only way he knew. His head was simply wired like a circuit. Current in, current out.

"If you want to be spiritual, there's no light without the dark—the yin and yang of the universe," Tony shrugged. "I'm an engineer. To have a right angle, you get 90 degrees on the positive side, but it means you've also got -90 on the other. That's the definition of the universe. Thanos was right when he said the universe likes balance. It does, but that balance is controlled by a force so far beyond what primitive beings like us can understand much less manipulate." He paused and looked at the ceiling and squinted. "Hey, Strange, if you're spying, back me up here."

He paused and listened but there was no reaction, which prompted him to mutter the word _coward_. Cap shook his head and realized something new about his friend. He never gave Tony enough credit for reflection. He carried a heavy burden measuring all of his accomplishments as a triumph publicly and as a sharp-toothed hydra privately.

"You've come to expect that if you do one good thing, you'll find 10 bad things from it," he guessed.

"There's evidence to back that up," Tony nodded. "I've got years of empirical data I could show you. After a while, you just accept that that's just how life is. It's not good or bad. It just is. How you react to it—that's where judgment comes in to play."

"No, Tony, that's not how life works," Cap assured him. "We've both been gifted two lifetimes, but I've lived longer than you. I can tell you that's not how it is. You've made mistakes. We all have, but you should forgive yourself. The rest of us have, and we're all relieved and grateful that you're here with us again."

"Yeah, but why me?" he shrugged. "How was I more deserving than Romanoff? The answer is: I'm not. So that brings us back to the concept of universal balance. Something, somewhere tipped. Something more is going on that brought me here. That means something else is going to touch down. I think history shows it's not going to be good—and in the condition I'm in, I can't help anyone deal with it. So whatever I've caused this time, it's on the people in there to face it."

He pointed at the room where their friends were gathered, most of them kindly not staring while giving the two men space but keeping sufficient situational awareness to step in should things suddenly look unpleasant.

"That's not fair to anyone," Tony continued. "I can see you want to argue, but I can tell you for a fact that nothing—absolutely nothing—actually just happens by chance. Steve, nothing in the universe is truly random. There's always a cause, and for every cause there is an effect—often more than one."

Cap did not want to debate physics with a genius or enter a philosophical discussion on Easter with a resurrected man who was an atheist at birth. The old soldier was willing to concede that science would back up Tony's claim for scientific questions, but Cap thought Tony was looking too hard and too deeply at something that was much simpler than he would admit. Natasha's death pained them all as friends. It weakened the Avengers, but what she did made defeating Thanos possible. In that way, it was just like losing Tony. The difference is the universe wasn't done with him.

"I think you're focused on the small details and not seeing the whole picture," Cap asserted. "Maybe bringing you back was the balance. Maybe it's a reward for a heroic deed. Maybe we still need you."

Tony scoffed and said he was never putting on his armor again. The cellular issue he was battling for his life made that a guarantee.

"Battling for your life?" Cap repeated with concern. "Is it killing you?"

"Everybody dies," Tony said but struck a defensive pose as he folded his arms and looked away. "Some of us more than once. Oh, don't give me the worried look. I'm not dropping dead today or tomorrow."

"Good, but I didn't say we needed a suit of armor known as Iron Man," Cap replied then sighed and shook his head, speaking with a little regret as he smiled. "I said we need you, Tony Stark... the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

Tony cringed and grimaced at hearing his words returned to him.

"Ouch," he shook. "That had to hurt a little. It was painful just hearing it."

"Really?"

"No," Tony flashed a triumphant grin. "Would you say it again so I can get FRIDAY to record it? Having it on a loop to play back might help lift my spirits on the tough days."

"No," Cap refused as he looked inside and spotted Pepper handing a sippy cup to Morgan while taking what looked like a wrench out of her hand. "Besides, it's not accurate anymore. I'd need to drop the playboy part. There's a wonderful woman smiling in there who I thought months ago might never do that again. There's little girl who is going to grow up happily knowing her adoring father. And there's a baby on the way who wouldn't exist without you. You'll never convince me there is any downside to that. Tony, this house is full today of people whose hearts are no longer heavy with grief and sorrow because you are where you belong: among them. Someday, when you're ready, there's an entire world that would like to thank you and could benefit again from your inventions... and some of your inspiration."

Tony fidgeted uncomfortably under the man's thoughtful gaze then scoffed.

"Wow," he said, "and I didn't get you anything."

In his pause, Pepper stepped outside with a curious expression on her face. She looked at the two of them to assess how things were going. She walked to Tony's side, rubbing her arms at the chill in the air, prompting him to slip his arm around her.

"How is everything out here?" she asked cautiously.

"Steve is begging me to do a roadtrip to Vegas," Tony said instantly. "It turns out that after more than century, he's never committed a sin and wants to see what all the fuss is about so he came to the master for guidance. I told him I've put that lifestyle behind me, but he's not backing down. I'm worried he might abduct me."

"Try again," she commanded with a flat smile. "Attempt at least a syllable of truth this time."

"Everything's fine," Cap informed her.

"Good," she nodded then turned her sights to Tony again. "Do you feel okay? You look a little pale."

"Well, I'm not allowed to spend a week on my yacht, and the sun hasn't come out here for more than 10 minutes on any day since the second week of November," Tony grumbled. "You want to complain about my paleness, take it up with nature or pack your bags. We can fly to the west coast tonight. Morgan will love it. We'll get her a baby seal. It can live in the tub in the winter and have the lake to itself in the summer."

Pepper sighed and shook her head, dropping her worry for the moment. She turned apologetic eyes to Cap, who nodded.

"He's just as you said," he offered. "Same old Tony."

"So are you two going to come in and socialize with everyone else, or is this a private club?" she wondered. "I'm a little worried Morgan is still trying to adopt Peter. She's begun asking him what they are going to do tomorrow. He doesn't have the heart to tell her he's going home tonight. If he does, she'll fall apart or start working on Happy to stay the night so he can't drive Peter away."

"Not a bad idea," Tony nodded contemplating the situation. "We could keep Pete. He'd be an instant babysitter if we ever needed one on a moment's notice. He's trustworthy; enamored with me, and seems pathologically designed to always seek to please me. I think he's intimidated by you so that's a bonus. He's polite and has table manners. Plus, he's flexible so we could fold him up and store him in a box in the attic when Morgan's not playing with him."

Cap sighed and shook his head.

"You don't talk to him that way, do you?" he asked.

"He does," Pepper replied.

"The kid loves it," Tony asserted.

Pepper nodded with regret and agreed that was accurate as she shivered as the breeze picked up. Tony noted it and nodded to Cap that the discussion was over.

"Then," Cap said taking the signal, "I think it's time I have a talk with young Mr. Parker."

Tony scoffed and shook his head as he grumbled mildly.

"I'm doing the cool surrogate family vibe here, and you're just going to ruin it by stepping in with your whole righteous grandpa thing," he complained.

"You don't know what I'm going to say, Tony," Cap replied as he moved toward the door.

"I know how you think," Tony charged as he began escorting Pepper. "Maybe in your senility you've forgotten that I worked with you for years."

"You worked in my vicinity," Cap corrected as he chivalrously opened the door for Pepper.

Tony snapped his fingers and winced.

"Right," he agreed. "On my report card under the category of 'plays well with others' it said _Needs Improvement_."

Pepper groaned and put an end to the friendly squabble by informing her husband that only he thought his cute remarks were funny, but that there was a fine line between joking and serious.

"Fine, we're done," Tony said ushering her to the door. "You shouldn't be out here anyway. It's cold. It doesn't bug him because he was frozen for 50 years, but you could catch chill and give birth to a Starksicle."

"Do not ever say that world again," Pepper commanded as she gave him her patented "No" face while Cap began scanning the room in search of Peter.

**oOoOo**


	26. Chapter 26

**oOoOo**

As gatherings go, it was Peter's favorite that he'd ever attended. (t wasn't wild or very party-like compared to the few high school gatherings he'd attended in his life. It was calm (other than Morgan, who raced through the rooms every few minutes beckoning him to chase her), but there was food, conversation, no one was making Penis Parker cracks. He had never been at a gathering where it was all adults except him and one other. Plus, all his heroes were there (and they knew his name! And they were no longer fighting each other or a galactic bad guy). It was practically heaven. He felt like a grownup—just on a junior scale.

He stood by the windows, listening to Sam argue with Happy about the New York Knicks. The reason for the disagreement baffled Peter because it seemed both men were fans of the team. He listened to their mild disagreement like watching a tennis match, swiveling his head from one side to the other. Just when it seemed things were about to get interesting, Happy said Sam would feel differently if he was at a game in person.

"Yeah, well, I'd have to have tickets to do that, wouldn't I?" Sam grumbled. "I get a better view on my TV than I would sitting in the nosebleed seats I can afford."

"I've got tickets," Happy shrugged. "Tony gave me his reserved season tickets six or seven years ago."

"They any good?" Sam asked then hung his head as he processed what he'd just said. "Wait. When you say he gave you 'his' tickets, do you mean ones he bought you or are they the ones he'd have used for himself?"

"Same thing," Happy nodded.

"Where do you sit?"

"Where Tony always sat: courtside," Happy replied. "We used to go to games once in a while years ago, so he just got the best seats at the Garden in case we were in town when there was a game. Sometimes, he'd let Board members use them until he decided he couldn't stand most of the Board of Directors."

"Tony's a Knicks fan?" Sam asked and got a nod. "Okay, now I've gotta reevaluate everything about the guy."

"Hey, he's from New York," Happy said.

"I thought he was a California guy."

"No," Peter reported, glad to join the discussion. "Mr. Stark was born in Manhattan. He was raised on Long Island, then he went to school in New England. He moved to California when he was 21 and was allowed to take over Stark Industries. That's when he transferred the research and development division to Los Angeles."

Both men looked at Peter with blank expressions. Happy's was a little put out because Peter had trampled on his ground of being an expert in all things Tony. Sam just looked worried that a teenage kid had memorized Tony's biography to the point that he knew the guy's addresses at different stages of his life.

"Tony's got skybox tickets, too," Happy said diving back into the discussion to gain control of it, "but he always doled those out to corporate guys to keep them away from him while watching the game. Obviously, there haven't been games the last couple years, but this year is different. They've got their starting lineup back. I've got four tickets if you wanna go next week. They're playing Houston."

"Let me see," Sam pondered dramatically. "Do I want free courtside tickets to see the Knicks play? I'm wanna say hell yes, but let me check first to see if I can get the night off. We asking Rhodes, too?"

"Sure," Happy nodded. "Rhodey's gone with Tony in the past lots of times. It's time he goes back; his seat misses him. Can't ask Tony for obvious reasons so that leaves us one more ticket."

Peter stood by, hopeful and eager for an invite. Aunt May would probably object if the game fell on a school night, but Peter figured he could convince her it was okay since he'd be with Happy and the new leader of the Avengers. He smirked thinking of how Flash and the others would react at school the next day if he was seen on camera sitting courtside; however, the offer never came.

"Maybe I'll ask May if she wants to join us," Happy suggested.

"No," Sam shook his head. "Guys night, man. It's the Knicks. Take her with the kid sometime."

"Good idea," Happy nodded as the two men started walking toward the kitchen in search of sustenance.

"You ever seen a game in LA?" Sam asked.

"Sure," Happy nodded as they drifted toward the food. "Tony gave me his tickets for those games, too."

"Courtside?"

"Always," Happy replied. "We used to hit Laker games when we were living on the west coast."

"Man, I just thought you were his driver," Sam shook his head.

"Oh, Tony rarely let me drive," Happy informed him. "I ran his personal security, but I was more like the one-man entourage that checked a box for the corporate insurance policy."

"Hell of a résumé bullet for you," Sam laughed. "Iron Man's bodyguard. Women must have eaten that up when you told them."

"No, I got laughed at a lot," Happy confessed. "It's part of why Tony gave me all his season tickets."

Peter stood there with a frown as they forgot him, leaving him alone. Morgan was with her mother being made to sit still while she ate. Peter had grown swiftly fond of the little girl, but a moment of peace from her was nice as well. The prior evening, she had done as her father suggested and made bunny ears for Happy, but she also made a pair for Peter. So far she had not asked him to wear them, but Peter worried it was only a matter of time. It was one thing for Happy to play along—he was her nanny some of the time—but Peter was a superhero who was still trying to shed the label and title of "the kid" among these people. He doubted wearing pink bunny ears encrusted with glitter in front of them would help his case.

He stood alone on the side of the room trying to decide what to do with himself when he watched Cap return from his discussion on the porch and walk toward him.

"You're looking lonely," the older man said.

"No, I'm just… observing," Peter said, grateful for the company. "You're done talking to Mr. Stark. You two were out there for a while."

"We had a lot to talk about," he replied. "We haven't seen each other in a while, and I just found out last night that Tony was still with us."

Peter sighed at hearing that news and smiled with relief.

"You too?" he blinked. "So it wasn't just me? That's… Wow. Okay, I feel better. I just found out on Friday afternoon. I thought I was the only one."

Cap patted his shoulder and walked him across the room where they could speak more privately. He could see the teen anxiously throwing glances in Tony's direction, but Morgan had his attention as she regaled him with a story that likely involved Peter based on the pointing she was doing.

"You and I didn't get much chance to talk the last time we were here," Cap began. "Or any other time we've been in each other's vicinity."

"Uh no, sir," Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry about stealing your shield and all in Germany. It was… It was just business. I really am a big fan of yours."

Cap nodded, not wanting to get into what led to the rumble between friends and superheroes at that airport. No one was entirely right. No one was entirely wrong. That was the only fact that was undisputable.

"But I come in second, right?" Cap smiled and looked briefly toward Tony. "A little free advice from an old man: Human heroes are fine as long as you don't put them too high on a pedestal. They have a habit of making mistakes and when they fall, you get hurt along with them."

Peter nodded shyly and as he looked between the two men.

"I know Mr. Stark isn't perfect, but that's kind of what makes him… kind of perfect," Peter said. "I mean, he's real. Everyone makes mistakes. He just never lets a setback keep him down, I guess. Plus, really smart guys don't usually get to put the bully in his place. Those terrorists took him in Afghanistan, and he just… He showed them what a smart guy can do. I mean, the armor is completely cool and all, but that's not what makes him my hero. It's because of who he is. He's so smart and he just… he cares."

Cap chuckled and said that years earlier, he would have questioned the teen's sanity to hear him say something like that.

"I know," Peter nodded sheepishly. "Aunt May doesn't understand what Mr. Stark means to me—or she didn't until she got to know Happy better. He probably knows Mr. Stark better than anyone other than Pepper or Colonel Rhodes. It's just that, for longer than I've actually known him, Mr. Stark's been important to me. I admire him. When I finally did meet him officially, it was the most amazing day of my life at that point. I walked into my apartment and saw him talking to Aunt May. Tony Stark was in my apartment, waiting for me, Peter Parker, just a high school sophomore. It was beyond my wildest dreams. He knew all about me, and he wanted my help. He believed in me. Plenty of people said I was smart and I'd do well after college, but he believed in more than just my grades. He trusted me to help him… uh… capture you. Sorry about that."

"Well, you didn't capture us," Cap reminded him.

"I know, but Mr. Stark said that wasn't my fault," Peter added. "He was actually a little freaked that I got knocked down. He's treated me a little like I'm fragile ever since even though, technically speaking, I'm stronger than he is and can bounce back from pretty much anything."

Cap nodded and told the boy the obvious: he was a child in Tony's eyes and therefore needed protection. Peter frowned at that but nodded his acceptance.

"I know, but I'm not helpless," he said. "I keep trying to make him see that. I just want so much to impress him that we end up in situations that aren't totally safe…"

"Like stowing away on an alien vessel?" Cap remarked and gave him a scolding look.

"Which was not entirely my doing," Peter argued. "And it was a good thing I did that. I helped him, but he doesn't see it that way. He just remembers… the bad. I wish that had never happened. I mean, disappearing was terrifying, but I never wanted for it to happen that way. I remember the look on his face when it started to happen. After everything I'd just done helping him fight Thanos, we all just disintegrated in front of him. Until that moment, I was thrilled that I was able to help my hero fight this super bad guy and he'd trusted me to do it. It meant everything to me—just like when he brought me to Germany. He helped me believe in myself and then..."

Cap smiled, turning the discussion away from the sorrowful points.

"Just when I think I've heard it all," he shook his head and chuckled. "Tony Stark as a motivation speaker? That is one I still cannot imagine."

"Well, he has more of a tough love sort of approach, but…," Peter began then blinked back the tears that were still cropping up at odd times although he noted they were easier to control. "He makes me want to prove to him how good I can do… everything. Like when I get home tonight, I've gotta start applying to colleges. I want to show him that even though I waited this long, I can still get into a good school. I don't want to worry him anymore."

He spoke his words in a hushed fashion that sounded like the tears formerly in his eyes were stemming from a lump in his throat. He paused and cast another wary glance across the room then spoke in a worried fashion to the old soldier.

"Um, do you know what's wrong with him?" Peter asked with concern. "I know he's sick. He told me it was rare but that it wasn't too serious, but I understand chemistry. There's no way someone takes what they're giving him for an illness that's nothing."

"Dr. Banner is a smart man," Cap offered the only assurance he had. His own concern was high following the bleeding episode Tony downplayed; Pepper's worry about how her husband appeared contributed to that. "If anyone can figure out the problem and solve it, it's Bruce. Until he does, I think Tony is doing quite well. He's got a lot to live for."

He looked across the room where Tony held Morgan to one side and had his free arm wrapped around Pepper. Wanda was with them speaking animatedly to the little girl while her parents grinned deliriously at whatever she was saying in reply to the woman with the supreme magical powers.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Morgan's great, and then there's a new baby on the way. He's gonna have a son."

His word were kind, but his tone was sad. Jealousy followed by shame arced across his young face. Cap nodded, diagnosing the envy from a reaction he saw in his older grandchild when he found out he was going to have a sibling years earlier.

"Do you know one of the more amazing things I've learned in my life?" he said. "When you add someone new to a family, it doesn't mean you care about the people already around you less. Peter, you're here today because Tony and Pepper wanted you here to be a part of this. There are 8 billion people on the planet, and about 10 know Tony is alive. It seems clear to me that means everyone here is among the most important people in the world to Tony."

Peter nodded. Put that way, he did feel special. Plus, Morgan had attachment level Velcro to him anytime she wasn't with one of her parents or Happy. She had begun talking about plans for Peter to see her nearly every day of the week. He was beginning to dread going home and letting her down in the same way he didn't like doing anything that disappointed her father.

_I guess Stark DNA is just my kryptonite_, he thought as he smiled unconsciously.

"How have you been adjusting to being back?" Cap asked, pulling him from his revelry.

Peter sighed and mentioned his doldrums and inability to feel attached to anything. His friends didn't fully understand what had happened. They figured all of their experiences were the same. None of them understood why he was having such a hard time.

"It's been hard being back at school, learning that I missed over five years of my life, and not telling anyone about who I really am," he explained. "I mean, I fought in that battle with all of you and no one can know about it, which is fine. I'm not looking for credit or attention or anything, but knowing—before I mean—that Mr. Stark died… That I was there and I couldn't save him…. I kept seeing him, pictures of him, murals, all of it, everywhere. The rest of the world was honoring him and his sacrifice, but I was…"

He choked up unexpectedly and felt Cap's warm, firm hand on his shoulder. Peter quickly mopped his eyes and chanced a glance around the room, hoping no one noticed. If anyone did, they didn't acknowledge it.

"You were grieving the loss of someone you knew and loved," Cap offered kindly. "That's natural."

"I just wish I was told sooner," he shrugged. "I mean, Happy and Dr. Banner and Colonel Rhodes knew. So did Harley."

"Harley?"

Peter explained about Tony's lab assistant/intern with a touch of unintended bitterness about Harley learning months earlier about Tony.

"Your value to Tony isn't measured by how quickly you were told," Cap assured him. "Peter, when Tony stepped off the Benatar after returning from Titan, he was nearly on his last breath. Among the first things he said to me was 'I lost the kid.' Losing you hurt him—deeply. It wasn't a momentary regret or a jolt of guilt. It was pain, anguish even."

Peter blinked, unaware that he was even mentioned. He knew nothing about how Mr. Stark got back after they battled Thanos on the faraway planet. That he was among Mr. Stark's first thoughts upon getting home was comforting, but the man had just lost a fight with the villain he tried to stop. Explaining what happened was likely just a natural reaction when he returned. Cap smiled and sighed.

"Have you been in the kitchen?" he asked, thinking of the photo he saw the day of the funeral and what Pepper told him about it.

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "I've been here the last two nights. Why?"

Cap beckoned for Peter to follow him. The moved into the room where plates of food were laid out and everyone was grabbing a mid-morning meal. Peter snagged a muffin on his way past as Cap pointed to a shelf to the right of the sink. There were two photos on it.

"On the left is a picture of Tony's father, Howard," he said then shifted his hand. "And beside that is someone I'm sure you recognize."

Peter blinked, noticing the photo for the first time. It was of him and Tony, the picture they faked for Aunt May to sell her the story that Peter got an internship with Stark Industries. Peter grinned at it. Tony had purposefully turned the fake certificate with Peter's picture upside down then stuck his fingers up behind Peter's head in a rabbit ears/peace sign way. Catching him doing it, Peter boldly did the same back as Happy took the photo. It was a childish thing, but Peter got giddy every time he looked at the picture afterward. His identical copy of the shot was still tucked away in a drawer because looking at it hurt too much previously. Seeing the picture in the Stark's kitchen gave him flutters in his chest.

"Pepper told me Tony put the picture there the day they moved in," Cap explained. "You mean a great deal to Tony, and you were never far from his mind while you were gone. Last October, when he rejoined the Avengers, I asked him how he solved the problems of time travel. He told me he was looking at this picture of you—seeing the upside down certificate you're both holding—and it gave him an idea about inverting something or other. Peter, you were part of his inspiration—not just because of an upside down document—but because you were on his mind. He wanted to bring you back if it was at all possible."

Peter nodded and said he was pleased by that but that he suspected the horror of watching everyone around him turn to dust left Tony with a lot of bad memories he surely wanted to put right so he could forget about them.

"You're missing an obvious point," Cap said tapping the frame. "Tony is a computer person—he prefers a digital life. Paper, like what that photo is printed on, isn't his style, but there it is. Pepper told me he only has four printed photos. There is this one of his father. On the piano, there is one of his mother. Out in his garage and lab area, he has one of Pepper and Morgan. Right here is one of you. Peter, he was told in October when he returned that you were back safe and sound. Harley may be working with him on a project, and maybe Tony didn't reach out to you until just this week, but your picture is still on this shelf. That has meaning."

Peter stared at the picture and felt his face grow warm, but in a good way. As he gazed at the photo, a set of tiny hands grabbed onto his sleeve and yanked on his arm to get his attention. He looked down to see Morgan grinning at him as she began climbing up the side of him then scrambling onto his shoulders. Peter looked sheepishly at Cap and shrugged at his new position as her jungle gym.

"Never doubt that you are important to Tony, but always remember this little girl is the center of his world," Cap patted his shoulder as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card with his phone number on it; it was an antiquated practice, but he considered it gentlemanly. "Call me if you ever need to talk or need some assistance. For example, if the day comes when Tony starts suggesting you take up residence in a toy box because you would make an entertaining playmate for his children, I'll do what I can to help you assert your rights as a human being."

Morgan raised her arms and began begging Peter to lift her to the ceiling. She only stopped when her mother offered her a starchy look that cut off the begging.

"I don't mind being Morgan's buddy," Peter said to Cap while jostling her with an exaggerated shrug, sending the little girl into a fit of giggles. "I'd do anything Mr. Stark asks me to do."

Cap shook his head and sighed in defeat.

"I've been fighting this tide and losing for years," he remarked.

"What is that?" Peter asked.

"The Tony Stark worship," Cap admitted quietly. "My youngest granddaughter is a bit older than you. She became enamored with Tony just after he revealed that he was Iron Man. It's been years, and her admiration has never waned. I try not to pay much attention to it and just feel grateful Tony will never know about it."

**oOoOo**

Brunch lingered past the lunch hour. No one (not guests nor hosts) seemed in any hurry to bring the gathering to an end. Morgan had entered a staring contest with Wong, and Tony wondered if his daughter had finally met her match. As he quietly watched them glare at each other with squinting eyes across the coffee table, Sam noted the pronounced quiet of the guest of honor.

"Alright," Sam said loudly to Tony. "I had my world rocked earlier to find out you're a native New Yorker and a Knicks fan. Don't be shaking the rest of my foundations by making me think you've suddenly gone all reserved and quiet. I'm not the only one who expects you to be… what was it Nat used to call it?"

"Hyper-verbal," Rhodes offered with a grin.

"Right, a hyphenated way of saying you talk a lot," Sam offered. "So, you've been hanging out here being laidback and quiet. I think I speak for most of us when I say it's freaking us out a little bit. Come on. You gotta say something to all of us. Give us a speech."

"Yeah, no one here wants that," Tony shook his head.

"Never stopped you before," Rhodes jabbed.

Pepper took that as a queue to slip out of the room, sensing the discussion might be heading down a path not suitable for curious by young ears. She took Morgan by the hand, granting Wong a win in the contest, then led her to the stairs the room began to chatter that they also did not buy Tony's shy act. They began to prod him to offer some words. Even the normally socially reticent Banner was not satisfied with a quiet refusal.

"Come on, Tony," he said. "You've got something to say—you always do. I've been listening to you in the lab for weeks so share some of that with everyone else. I know you can do it. If won't do it for them, then do it for me."

"Bruce, we've talked about this," Tony chided. "What happens in the lab, stays in the lab. But if you're going to get all demanding, then I really think we need to see other people."

Sam guffawed as a hint of rosiness appeared on the green giant's complexion. As Tony shook his head and shrank from further attention, Wanda appeared at his side. The rest of the room fell into separate conversations once more.

"The etiquette for these circumstances is unclear, don't you think?" she said.

"I've never been an authority on what's appropriate at pretty much anytime," Tony shrugged.

"I can believe that," she smiled. "Still, it is good that you are here. Pepper tells me you did not think I would come. We do not have to always agree to have friendship."

"If I was only friends with people who agreed with me, there'd be no one in this room," Tony remarked. "I was surprised anyone wanted to take the day and come here. I thought the world was supposed to be moving on and putting the past in the past. So what's the reason? Is it just a big therapy gathering? One big session to purge misplaced guilt for the whole me dying thing so we can go back to our former dysfunction?"

"We can never go back to who we were or how we were," Wanda shook her head. "What happened, all of it, changed us. The old differences? They no longer matter. That is why I want to apologize."

Tony offered her a confused expression. He knew of nothing she had said or done that would merit an apology. He'd asked Vision to make her a virtual prisoner (for her own good) at the compound. That was a good reason to harbor some resentment in his book now that he was suffering through a version of it at the lake house.

"I opened your mind to a horror that set you on a path," she confessed.

Tony hung his head. That vision of the future sent him down a bumpy road, no arguments, but in the end the world was saved.

"I got a heads up there were rough days coming," Tony shrugged. "That's life. It can't all be easy like the SATs or college courses."

"Is it so hard for you to accept sincerity?" she wondered. "The world is a cold and hard place at times, but you are surrounded by genuine affection and gratitude."

"Which I don't deserve so I don't let it go to my head," Tony replied. "Wanda, it's not an insult to you. It's a defense mechanism for me. So, no apology is necessary from you. If you hadn't shown me what you did, I might've gotten more sleep for a few years, but I'd never have believed in the imminence of the threat when it finally came."

"You lived with a nightmare in your head plaguing you for so many years," she said sadly.

"The worst of it didn't come true," he assured her. "Most of you are still here. So I apparently did what I had to do."

"I am sorry you had to do what you did," she apologized.

"Look, I know we talk about _team_, and I've read what everyone did," Tony replied. "No doubt, group effort across the board, but in the end: one hand with the stones. That was always going to be the final move, and there could be only one person making it."

He shrugged and waited for what he knew would come next. She did not disappoint him as she uttered similar words to what others had to him that day: if she was in proximity to the gauntlet, she would have grabbed it and made that final snap. Hearing that yet again wormed under his skin and reversed his decision to offer some words of wisdom to his guests.

"Hey, everyone?" Tony said loudly gaining their attention. "Remember when I said a couple minutes ago that I had nothing to say? Well, that was true until I just now when I realized it was wrong. I want to make something perfectly clear. A few of you have told me your wish that you could have done what I, or some version of me apparently did. Well, that's a fantasy."

He turned to Wanda and laid out for her (and everyone listening) scientifically what would have happened if she wore the gauntlet. The power of the stones coupled with her tesseract fueled abilities would have caused a supernova the second she got the thing on her paw.

"That wipes us all out," he said. "Sure, it takes out Thanos, too, but it also obliterates most of New York State, which results in a cataclysmic chain reaction that makes Hiroshima look like bottle rocket. There would have been no more Scarlet Witch. You'd have been the Blew Witch as in part of you blew east, part west, north, then south… huge crater in the middle of…"

"Tony," Rhodes cut him off as he stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She gets the point."

"Fine, do the rest of you?" he asked the room, dropping them all to silence. "I've read the report. Bruce, the guy built by Gamma radiation, was barely able to hold the stones for his snap. That means none of you could hold the gauntlet without dying instantly. I had a suit specifically engineered to adhere the stones then momentarily withstand and channel their energy. A titanium gold alloy bought me 10 seconds. That's all, but that was the ballgame. My armor became a super conductor. It absorbed then discharged the energy into the snap so that most of the power stayed in the suit and that the devastating radiation stayed in me."

"You say that with so little emotion," Wanda observed. "You speak like you are explaining new technology or speaking of someone else."

"Because that's exactly what I am doing," Tony replied. "There's no feeling in science. No room for emotion. What you have is only fact. I appreciate the sentiment behind your collective wish to have made the sacrifice. It speaks volumes for your character. But that's all it is: sentiment. It's feeling. This is a fact: Those stones were not for a human to wield. We're taking primordial cosmic matter; the very essence of creation and destruction. The human body is no match for that. The decision to jump on that grenade is no brainer for anyone here, but the fact is that none of you actually could do it and get the result we needed. The events didn't give you the opportunity. So, understand this: All the bravery and strength in the world wasn't going to kill Thanos. Physics and engineering did—an amazing and borderline supreme understanding of both fields, of course…"

Smirks erupted around the room with a few rolling eyes as Rhodes leaned in and whispered to his friend that he was straying from his point.

"Right," Tony acquiesced. "Not the point, despite being undeniable true. The point is: This was a mathematical equation. Strange saw it and let me know we had reached that point. There was only one right answer, only one sequence that worked for a win. All of your sincere, heartfelt desires and willingness to lay down your life to save the universe are commendable. They're a credit to who you are, but that's the problem. Either you've got some enhanced skills that would have made you nitro to the stones' glycerin, or your skills didn't include the necessary circuits and conductive properties. Bascially, I'm saying the Mark 85 is the real hero here… with a little credit to the guy who designed and built it."

"Yeah, but I had a suit," Rhodes charged. "I could have done it, too."

The sharpness in his voice wasn't for his friend. It was apparent to everyone listening that it was both his nearly identical tactical gear and proximity to the fatal weapon that was eating at him. Tony looked at him and understood for the first time the source of so much of Rhodes' aggressive coldness toward him. It was a textbook case of survivor's guilt.

"Yours wasn't as good as mine," Tony explained calmly. "Rhodey, yours is dated. You didn't have the same advanced nano technology. Your suit is made of Inconel, which is a super alloy of austenite, nickel, and chromium. It's great for resisting bullets and most bad guys, but it's not incapable of locking onto even one infinity stone. Not to mention, your suit got touched by Hammer Industries years ago. It's sullied and weak by comparison."

The assessment seemed to lift a weight from Rhodes' shoulders. He looked beseeching at his friend and received a simple nod confirming that what he said was factual. Rhodes nodded in return and cleared the tightness from his throat.

"Weak, seriously?" he chided. "You wanna argue now about who's honestly the bigger gun, here?"

"Just pointing out the obvious and reminding you that mine is always better," Tony offered as Pepper returned to the room from getting Morgan down for a nap. She nestled herself by her husband's side.

"I had a suit you made recently that no one else ever touched," she remarked. "It was made of the same stuff yours is, isn't it?"

Tony gaped at her in horror. He'd read every report made available to him (and then hacked the SHIELD server to pull the ones that weren't). In none of them did he read that Pepper was present during the battle much less that she fought in it.

"You were there?" he exclaimed feeling anxiety rise in his chest as he turned and looked hard at Cap. "You let her join in?"

"It wasn't my call," Cap held up his hands.

"You can handle genocidal aliens, homicidal robots, and super enhanced Nazis, but a CEO who's never fired a weapon is suddenly beyond your ability to contain?" Tony huffed. "Seriously?"

The laugh that waltzed through the room was not the reaction he was seeking nor did it do anything to quiet the spike in latent fear that filled his chest. He turned back to Pepper, who was giving him an understanding but still patronizing smile.

"What were you thinking?" he pleaded. "You're not supposed to the dangerous stuff—that's my deal. Armor for you is always defensive, not offensive."

"It was equipped with weapons," she informed him, recalling a certain elation with her participation until the moment when she lost the love of her life.-

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the reasonable one in this relationship," he continued. "And to even think that you should make a grab for the stones? Are you nuts? You are never allowed to ever do anything as suicidal as grabbing a universal reset button. Ever." He turned his head sharply and addressed Banner while pressing a hand to his hammering heart. "Bruce, do your research a favor. Don't pay any attention to my vitals today. They're gonna be an aberration. I'll be coming off an anxiety attack for the rest of the afternoon."

Pepper muttered soothing words to him, reminding him that nothing happened to her, and it was highly unlikely they would ever face a threat like that again. Tony continued to shake his head and blink in both delayed fear and shock. Cap took that moment to draw attention to himself and give Tony a minute to compose himself.

"I think," he cleared his throat, "what Tony is trying to say is that he's overwhelmed by our desire to have spared him what he went through, and that we should all consider ourselves fortunate for, ultimately, how things turned out."

"Well, that's not at all what I was getting at," Tony said. "I was just talking strict science before, but what you said is good too so we can go with that. Let's move on."

Nervous chuckles rippled through the room as Cap raised his glass and nodded for others to do the same. Each did in succession as they looked toward their host.

"A toast to everyone," Cap said. "To our fallen comrades; to those who are currently far away and unable to join us; and to the role each of you played as well as your perseverance. I will also add a special thanks to Tony for…," he sighed then shrugged, "both then and now, being the one and only Tony Stark."

Everyone in the room vocalized their agreement but only Pepper heard Tony mutter the word "allegedly" under his breath in response to Cap's assessment of him. She squeezed his hand but said nothing more. Peter moved quietly to Tony's other side and gathered his attention.

"Um, Mr. Stark," he said quietly while folding his arms. "You do know I was bitten by a radioactive spider, right? It stands to reason that I could have…"

"No," Tony cut him off, snapping out the word as though he had studied under Pepper for its usage for years.

"I'm just saying," Peter persisted sincerely, "that I also had a suit you made, and I would have understood the consequences of what could happen so I'd have been willing to…"

"That is the definition of bravery, Peter," Cap remarked proudly. "Knowing something will hurt but doing it anyway."

"It's also the definition of stupid," Tony added, "and that's why life's hard, kid. So, no, Pete. Just no. There is no way I'd ever let you try it any more than I'd let Morgan stick scissors in an outlet."

Although he'd just been scolded and relegated to the maturity of a toddler, the sentiment behind Tony's words brought a grin to Peter's face that warmed him from neck to toes.

**oOoOo**

Far from the lake house, in a warehouse not far from the remains of an old granite quarry, Ghost reviewed a several of text messages that had just come to his phone. The first was a series of numbers that were map coordinates he presently typed into his search program.

They pulled up a small lake in upstate New York, north of the city and west of Albany. It was not far from Camp Delta and the crater remains of the former Avengers' compound.

The next messages were a warning about a perimeter and security net strung around the place making it virtually impenetrable. That irritated Ghost. He was so close yet unable to touch his target.

"If I can't get in, I'll just have to wait for you to come out," he muttered. "Don't wait too long, Tony. Your time will run short very soon."

He grinned at that. Time. It was such a precious thing to those who could not control it. For someone like Ghost, who mastered it and what could be done with different dimensions once you knew how, there was all the time in the world. He looked across the room to the electrified titanium kennel where he kept his most prized possession that he did not create.

"Mordo?" he called, rousing the mystical arts warrior whose help he spent years coercing.

Answering to years of torture to train him, the dark skinned man looked up fearfully.

"Yes, master?" he replied.

"Isn't time a fickle thing?" Ghost chuckled. "Does it seem like only yesterday that you were studying under your bald teacher in Katmandu?"

"No, master," Mordo droned.

"If we traveled there—back to your days as an acolyte of hers—would it seem longer or shorter for you?" he asked but did not wait for an answer. "Have you been meditating like I asked? Have you determined if your former student has made any breakthroughs in his newest puzzle?"

Mordo nodded, answering the first question easily, but spoke words to admit his failure on the second.

"I have done as you asked," he said. "I have tried to see with my mind's eye what has become of Stephen Strange, yet I see nothing. I see the sanctuary on Bleeker Street. I see Wong come and go, but of Stephen, there is nothing. I have come to believe he is dead and left this dimension."

"How odd," Ghost remarked. "I watched him get a knish from a street vender two days ago after taking to a skinny high school student. Perhaps you are not trying hard enough. Or are you lying to me? You know what happens when you lie."

The man in the cage crumpled and shook with fear as he pleaded his honesty and swore Strange was blocked from him.

**oOoOo**


	27. Chapter 27

**oOoOo**

The library at the Bleeker Street sanctuary was impressive by most accounts. The problem for Strange was not what it held but what it didn't. In his absence the previous five years, Wong had done a commendable job keeping the place guarded and dusted. What he hadn't done was shift the mystical texts from the fallen London sanctuary to New York as they had been discussing prior to Strange being kidnapped by aliens. There was a new guardian in London and (technically) that sanctuary was again occupied, but Strange wanted the books with him.

So, since returning, he'd entered into tense negotiations with Myra McVee, the new guardian of the London sanctuary. Mostly, he'd received a lot of cold "no" responses to his requests, leaving him to resort to borrowing a new stack of books each time he opened the portal to London (then conveniently failing to return them). It wasn't a matter of greed. It was a matter of need. He needed answers and hoped to find it in those books.

"Wong," he called into the dark recesses of Bleeker Street. "There are spells that manipulate time even without the time stone, correct?"

He received a grunting reply that sounded like a 'yes.' It would make sense. The time stone could manipulate time for an entire universe. A spell could do it for small spaces and populations, depending on the power source used to fuel the spell.

His interest in time had nothing to do with the five years he lost. He was more interested in another man claiming lost time.

"What do you seek?" Wong asked ambling into the room.

"Where have you been?" Strange asked as he spied the frustrated look on the man's face. "Are you still stewing that a child beat you at a game? Wong, it's not even a real game. She was making up the rules as she went along. Children do that. It's how they create."

"The manipulations were not for strategic benefit," the record keeper bemoaned.

"Because children aren't calculating," Strange informed him. "They just like to be entertained. Trust me, don't let anyone name Stark get into your head like that. It's impossible to get them out."

"You still seek answers to the question of her father's presence," Wong noted.

"The Avengers' best minds are looking at alternate realities, but I don't see how it's possible," Strange shook his head. "I saw all the possible realities. Tony died with everyone else in all of them except one—this one—yet he's here now so…."

"So you missed one," Wong suggested.

"No, that's what I'm saying," Strange snarled. "I looked at every one of them. I didn't just stop on the first one where we all survived. I looked at every possible outcome. We only won in one of them—and he had to die for us to do it. So how is he here if he's from another reality?"

"Are you sure that he is?" Wong questioned and received an arrogant look that questioned his sanity.

"He's Tony Stark," Strange assured him. "I've got no doubts."

"That is not what I meant," Wong explained. "I know the man possesses corporeal form, but there is more to existence than mere body. Remember your studies, Stephen. Your earliest lessons taught you there is more to life than your flesh and bones."

Wong then nodded and ambled out of the room, leaving Strange staring at his hands and feeling rather stupid for having overlooked several obvious avenues for consideration. His first mentor, Mordo, would be ashamed of him. Strange recalled one of the cardinal rules of the universe was never to mess with time. He'd fractured that law a time or two.

"Fracture?" he repeated the word as he looked from his hands then gazed sideways toward the mirror that hung on the wall. "Fractures? Oh, that would be… Wong!"

**oOoOo**

Tony's first hint that his routine visit to Banner wasn't routine was the location for that day's appointment. Normally, Sam drove him to the base. This time, Sam was riding shotgun. Hill had the wheel of what appeared to be a reinforced Suburban with blacked-out windows. As beacons for "something's going on" it was blazing.

Hill had refused to make eye contact with Tony during the ride and after they arrived at the base. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd personally fired her from Stark after learning she was still working directly for Fury or if something else had occurred in the years blank in his memory. Then again, he reasoned, she might just be digesting the news that he was alive. In the two weeks since he let others within the Avengers circle know, it seemed Fury had loosened the reins for who got let in on the secret. There was an increase in security (allegedly) and the few guards who did know who lived in the house said it was now understood by most of the security team that the home was that of the CEO for Stark Industries. They didn't know who other than Pepper and Morgan resided there, but the increase in security had them all wondering.

Tony hated secrets. He'd proven not reliable in keeping them when he thought them idiotic and pointless—and he considered most secrets to fall into those categories. He figured that was a remnant of having a father who led a double life as the CEO/inventor of weapons of war while also being a founding member of the most secret spy organization on the planet. That secret had gotten Tony's mother killed. He didn't precisely blame his father for it (the man was a victim, too), but the secret was as much to blame as anything his old man had ever done.

He pushed thoughts of his parents out of his mind as he was escorted, not to the lab like normal to get his blood draw, but to a conference room. Guards from his detail flanked the door. Inside the dank conference room, there were no windows, dun-colored walls, and a pervading air of depression. It held at a table the center and several unexpected, sullen faces surrounding it. To one side sat Rhodes looking crestfallen. Opposite him was Cap, looking puzzled yet pleased to be included. Wanda stood near the end of the table closest to Tony, looking as puzzled as he felt. Banner skulked in a corner chewing his large thumbnail. Sam and Hill took seats on opposite sides of the head seat which held Fury.

"This reminds me of my junior at MIT when I got hauled into the Dean's office," Tony remarked as he took the seat at the other end to face Fury. "That day, I got accused of a brilliant hack involving his car and the roof of Baker House. Rhodey, I think you might remember it."

Rhodes looked up briefly and smiled unconsciously. He rubbed his brow and shook his head to avoid the discussion. Whether he was admitting to the memory, reveling in it, or signaling this wasn't the time to discuss on school prank no one knew for certain. Fury, however, was not in the mood to discuss college shenanigans.

"You can covertly brag about your pulley system and stripping the body off a man's prized sports car before hoisting it onto an academic building another time," Fury said. "Right now, we have business to discuss."

The air in the room stiffened instantly. Tony leaned back in his chair and began swiveling it side-to-side. He never was much good at patiently waiting for anything and sitting still for what appeared to be a briefing felt a lot like he was on the job.

"No," he said instantly and drew all the stares in the room. "See, I don't work for you."

"Did I say I had a job for you?" Fury asked.

"You said we have business to discuss," Tony said. "We're not partners in any venture currently. I'm not a part of any business anywhere—one of the perks of being dead. A drawback, of course, is that I'm a billionaire who has no money. Still, business sounds official. Official sounds like work. See where this is leading me?"

Fury remained seated and folded his hands. He could stand up and shout. He could stare at Tony like he was going to bore o hole in him with his one good eye. He could debate the matter with the chatty Einstein opposite him, but there wasn't time. There was also going to be enough talking (and probably some shouting) before he was done.

"Mr. Stark," Fury said, "I am the bearer of bad news. I regret to inform you that you are the victim of cyber theft."

"What?" Tony blinked.

"Your most secure computer file was stolen from your private server several weeks ago and has been found on a SHIELD server," Fury said.

Tony sat forward and blinked.

"No," he shook his head. "You hacked me and I don't know about it? Not possible."

"Hacking your private server is not impossible, but it's hardly worth the time, money, and effort it would take to do it," Fury nodded. "But there's more than one way to infiltrate a computer system."

Tony shook his head vigorous. There was only one other person with access to his private domain: Harley. Tony trusted his intern implicitly and refused to believe Harley had turned on him.

"Social engineering rather than double-dealing is the culprit here," Fury offered, taking the intern off the hook for deceit but stringing him up as a fool instead. "Mr. Keener asked someone he thought he could trust to look at a file."

"Harley let someone else into my files?" Tony shook his head. "No. I refuse to believe that. Who allegedly did he give access? His sister? His professors?"

Fury turned his head slightly toward the corner where Banner huddled looking knotted and petulant. Tony followed the man's gaze and stared. It made no sense for Banner to seek access through treachery. Tony would have let him see, know, or use anything he needed. After all, the guy was trying to save his life.

"Bruce?" Tony questioned.

"I was going to tell you," he began then saw Tony's expression change from doubtful and curious to offended and angry. "Don't blow up about this. First off, because I can explain. Second, because your vascular integrity can't take a spike in your blood pressure. Just calm down and hear me out."

Tony clenched his jaw and only held back when he felt Wanda's hand press down on his forearm. He didn't know if it was a gesture of comfort and cooling tempers or a warning that she and all her mighty power was inches from him. He chose to take it as the former and keep in mind there were consequences for the latter. He signaled with his other hand for the explanation to begin.

**oOoOo**

Ghost knew chemically castrating a man's ability to make his own choices was an easy recipe in pharmacology if you understood the ingredients. Governments spent millions of dollars over the decades looking for ways to improve their soldiers, but all they needed to do was turn their enemy's soldiers to their side. Naturally, there were rules against that: conventions and pacts and treaties. Such mundane mashes of words. Anyone who truly wanted to dominate the world needed only to do as he damned well pleased and just ignored the rules of engagement.

So Ghost did precisely that.

There were two names the late Dr. Tanis gave up before he gave up his spleen and the rest of his innards: Benton and Reynolds. Both men served as guards for Tony Stark while he was a guest of Camp Delta. Finding them was not easy. They led quiet, unassuming lives with little contact with neighbors and no friends other than those who worked with them at the base.

But hard and impossible were two different words. After weeks of looking, Ghost found them—together no less! They frequented the same gas station for coffee before heading home from their evening duty to watch their precious captive. Dosing them with the drug was simple as well. He merely watched them on two mornings and determined which coffee they preferred. Before their arrival, when the clerk at the register was busy complaining about her ex-husband (yet again) he simply tainted the entire pot. As the men drove off, he followed until their vehicles began to swerve. Both pulled over on the side of the road within yards of each other.

A simple shot with a Taser followed by a little heaving and hauling got them into his van. He moved their cars off the shoulder and brought them to his warehouse. He worked on them in tandem. It was an hour-long process, but both minds proved pliable once the implant was in place. Learning Tony Stark was too well guarded to take from his home was disappointing but expected. Learning he made irregular trips to Camp Delta was refreshing. All Ghost had to do was wait for the call to come from one of the compromised guards that the eagle was in flight.

Once he received that notification, he could put his plan into motion.

With his framework to the plan in place, he released Greg Benton and Ollie Reynolds back to their cars without a word of objection from either. They smiled and waved to each other then drove home. Neither thought it strange or worth reporting when they noted they arrived at their apartments nearly three hours later than normal. Nor would they ever mention to anyone about the odd puncture marks in their necks that would fade into nothingness by the time they were on duty again the next night or the bizarre, tiny metal discs in the backs of their skulls just hidden within their hairlines.

**oOoOo**

After listening to Banner speak for 30 minutes, the room was stunned to silence. Cap held his head in his hands and was shaking it slightly. Sam eyed him with concern. Wanda had let go of Tony and was press both of her hands to her mouth. Rhodes, like Fury, was staring pointedly at Tony.

"That's it," Banner finished. "That's all of it. Helen, Dr. Cho that is, confirms with her own independent tests that a serum made with this formula will allow us to essentially reprogram an RNA protocol as a means to alter and manipulate the energy impulse signals to the DNA to our specifications."

"What does that mean?" Wanda asked.

"He's talking about electromagnetism," Tony flatly explained in plain language. "Think of it like the charge in a battery that keeps your phone alive. One day, the battery's starts draining for no reason. Bruce thinks he can fix that problem by uploading new software. Except, in this case, the battery isn't a battery; it's actually faulty human cells, and his software fix is a stolen voodoo potion that cures asthma and prevents freezer burn."

Bruce shrugged but then nodded, glad Tony understood despite the displeased look on his face. Cap shot the engineer a frustrated look before turning back to Banner.

"What happens if you get the specifications wrong?" Cap asked, beating everyone to the first question.

"I wouldn't get it wrong," Bruce said.

"If you did," Cap persisted.

"In theory, an addition super dose of the serum could reset all the existing RNA protocols," Banner said. "Of course, that could also end the RNA's ability to carry any messages which could be like…"

"Hitting the theoretical battery with Thor's hammer," Tony offered then splayed his fingers. "Boom."

That and Tony's sour grin drew a frustrate scowl from Banner, who did not correct him but also did not pursue the point.

"We didn't test for that possibility because the only alteration I'm considering for the RNA is the frequency of the cells' base electromagnetic charge," Banner continued.

"For what purpose?" Wanda asked. "What am I missing?"

Notably absent from Banner's explanation was his motivation for taking the formula from Tony's archives. No one else at the table seemed to understand why a man who knew better than anyone about meddling with DNA would have undertaken a project specifically aimed at playing chicken with DNA's fraternal twin, RNA.

Banner looked down, uncertain of what he should say. He wasn't technically a licensed medical doctor. He'd attended the proper schooling and had been working somewhat in that capacity on a single patient for months so he did feel bound by the doctor/patient confidentiality rules.

"Me," Tony answered Wanda, taking Banner off the hook. "Bruce didn't blatantly mention the part where his whole science project here is me. I'm the cells in question—the cellphone with the screwed up battery to continue the analogy. Bruce is trying to solve the riddle that is me. This illness I have that you've all been so obnoxiously polite in not asking about too deeply has been Bruce's _raison d'être_ for a while now. Go ahead, Doctor. No secrets here among friends."

The green Ph.D. bowed his head, knowing Tony was pissed, but the man's feelings were hardly important when measured against the need to save his life. Banner began discussing his initial findings and the approach currently used to sustain Tony's cellular integrity. He also revealed something Tony suspected but had not known for certain until that moment: the tests showed the effectiveness of the dysprosium treatment was now in retreat. He refrained from giving projections regarding how much longer it would lend any help, but from the fearful look Tony spied on Rhodes' face it was apparent the suspicions weren't encouraging.

"So why the family meeting?" Tony asked. "Bruce's light fingers on my private archives something for all of us to discuss?"

Fury's look was both reluctant and resigned. He stated what to him seemed obvious: The long-missing formula was now known. Questions of ownership aside, the people gathered in that room were the ones most directly impacted by the discovery. If the formula were to fall into the wrong hands (and he refrained from defining who that might be or from asking those gathered to offer their thoughts), then it would be catastrophic. Conversely, even in the right hands, using the serum could have global (possibly even universal) ramifications. Should the worst happen, some of those around the table would be called upon to face the threat. For the rest, they either held a piece of the puzzle (and one of them might need the formula simply to survive).

"So why not use it the one time to help Tony then erase it?" Rhodes suggested. "Just make the one dose and delete all the computer files."

"I'm sorry, are you making a joke?" Tony leaned forward. "You say that like you believe deleted files are actually gone. I know there's a question about where I came from, but I'm questioning where you've been. Does MIT know you have these flawed ideas? They should take your degree back."

"It's in aeronautics, not programming," Rhodes reminded him.

"I still may call them," Tony muttered.

"Tony's right," Cap intervened. "How do we know that SHIELD hasn't already copied Bruce's file?"

"My file," Tony asserted. "Just keeping it clear who technically owns the formula, and therefore, who should have the most say in what to do with it. For the record, I'm on the '_destroy it_' side of this as soon as I figure out how. I'd like to do it now rather than after someone brews the polyjuice." Cap nodded in agreement without even the slightest lift of an eyebrow, which drew Tony's attention. "You understood that reference? Let me guess: grandchildren?"

"All of them are readers and liked to give me book reports," Cap replied proudly.

"Literacy is wonderful, however," Wanda interjected, "this serum is a genie in a bottle, is it not? If we let it out, we may never be able to put it back in. If we leave it as is, the only danger is someone else removing the cork."

"But we doom Tony to certain death," Banner said.

He passionately explained again what he was certain he could do. He further stated that the reason he went to Fury with his findings and suggested cure was because he was so confident in his ability to control this so-called genie. He knew what commands to program into the chemical cure. Every test he had run told the same story: success with nearly no adverse side effects of the likes that would need a room of superheroes to battle them into submission.

"I see using the formula in the manner I've described as nothing but a win," Banner proclaimed. "I vote we utilize the… the miracle that practically fell in my lap."

Tony raised his hand at the opposite end of the room as he shook his head.

"I've got a different reaction," he said. "It starts with a 'hell' and ends with a 'no.' Bruce, I've never asked this before, but now seems like the appropriate time: Are you nuts?"

"Tony, I've looked at your test results for months and I can say with absolute surety that this is the only way to save you," Banner said. "It's actually really simple."

"It's actually really crazy—the dangerous kind," he countered. "Keep in mind that's coming from someone who has spent a lifetime embracing the scientific fringes of crazy and strayed a time or two into the lunatic lane. Bruce, you don't even know what it will do."

"Yes, I do," Banner insisted as he grabbed a keyboard and pulled up a screen full of data that he projected onto the wall. "I can show you. Look at it, Tony! It works. I've got your father's research."

Tony shoved his seat back and walked closer to the projection. He scanned the details, taking in the information as fast as he could read it. His head began shaking as he absorbed each line of data.

"All you've got is a single report with a formula," Tony said. "You don't know if this is the same formula as Erskine's. You've got my father's best estimation that this is the Kool-Ade that got Grandpa over here pumped up to fight Nazis. Nothing in these notes show that my father ever tried the formula on anything—not on an amoeba, or a frog, or a rat, and sure as hell not on a person. Hell, the damn time stamp on this file is like an hour before the Manchurian candidate murdered him."

The room choked on that offering. Fury turned his gaze to Cap, who kept his eyes forward and did not flinch. He was privately glad Tony did not seem to know Bucky was in a medical bay two buildings away. His friend had been awake off and on in the last week. He was not in the mood to talk much when Cap visited, but that seemed mostly a combination of shame that someone got the jump on him in California and that he'd lied to his old friend. When he did speak, he wasn't even remotely contrite about kidnapping anyone. He wasn't glad his captive was dead, but Bucky stood by his actions.

"Whoa, murdered?" Rhodes spoke up. "Tones, do you feel okay? Man, your dad was killed in a car accident. I was at the funeral with you. Remember?" He looked cautiously to Banner than to Tony. "Bruce?"

Banner shrugged and looked as lost as Rhodes and nearly everyone else around the table felt. Tony scoffed without interest or concern in filling in the details.

"Oh yeah," Tony waved carelessly at Rhodes. "I never told you the whole reason behind the UFC bout I had with Cap in Russia. You were recovering. Didn't seem like a burden you needed. Not really relevant here either. The point I was making is that this formula is—at best mind you—a prototype. It's an experiment—and untested one. So, I'm only giving one star to this episode of _Bad Breakthroughs in Science. _Sorry, Bruce."

He patted Banner on the shoulder as he made his way back to his seat.

"You're not hearing me," Banner pushed onward. "I've run hundreds of simulations and permutations on the RNA reprogramming. Everything checks out. Tony, your father spent nearly 50 years trying to crack this code, and he did it. This wasn't a one-off try. This is the culmination of a lifetime of work."

Tony took his seat, muttering to himself, then leaned on the table and shook his head firmly.

"This is karma, isn't it?" he remarked. "This is like me trying to talk myself out of doing something massively crazy but that I think is the solution. Wow, I do not have the patience for this today." He sighed loudly then ran his hands over his face before looking squarely at Banner. "You've been working on a virtual patient, not a live one. You used data from Steve's records from the 1940s, am I right? That formed the baseline for your data model?"

Bruce nodded and stated as a successful case example, Cap's results were the ideal metric to measure all of his own tests against.

"That was your first and biggest mistake—I mean other than stealing from me," Tony continued. "Your simulations haven't accounted for all the variables."

"Yes, I have," Banner argued. "I've input every data marker we have on your cellular degradation rate and your electromagnetic signature. I've even calculated an algorithm to compensate for the minor fluctuations in it that we've tracked so it's a continuum rather than a constant."

Tony laughed mirthlessly and shook his head as he bowed his head it then pinched the bridge of his nose. He groaned while restraining himself from the rant bubbling in his chest. It was at that moment that Cap decided it was time to speak.

"Is it the only way to save Tony?" he asked.

"It's all I've got," Banner admitted. "Seven months of all my time, all my energy, everything I can think of and this is it. Steve, you're proof that it will work."

"I'm proof it _could_ work," Cap corrected him.

"Barnes is proof, too," Banner persisted. "You're both no different than Tony."

Tony scoffed and shook his head.

"Yeah, they are, and you're making my argument for me now," he interjected. "Mr. Squeaky Clean, the accidental assassin, and I don't have a lot in common where it counts."

Cap sighed and turned his tired but sage eyes on his friend. He knew the indignant tone in Tony's voice well. He was digging in his toes on a point and was not going to be shifted off it easily or willingly.

"Tony, if this is about personalities…," Cap began. "Yes, the serum amplifies who you are…"

"Only if we activate all the components with gamma radiation," Bruce tossed in for good measure, "which we don't want to do here, not because of who you are but…"

Tony held up his palm to halt the rest of the sentence.

"Gonna stop you right there, guys," Tony said. "Not where I was going; although, it's duly noted that you were both going to qualify whatever it is I am or am not. No, my point is much more empirical and is rooted in actual science—the part focused on who each of us is on the inside, as in inside our cells. Bruce, play along with me for a second. I've been exposed to gamma radiation, suffered palladium poisoning, and currently have residual dysprosium in my bones and surrounding tissues. Would you agree that those things altered my body chemistry, even if just a little bit?"

"Yes, so what?" Banner shrugged. "I took those into account as one of the differences to look for in the model results."

"Good, because that's my point," Tony said. "I've had things happen to me that Steve and his psycho sidekick didn't. Ergo, Cap's baseline is irrelevant in making determinations on the most molecular level—which is kind of ground zero for my little degradation problem. I see nothing in your presentation that shows me you accounted for the important differences."

Banner shrugged and said he failed to see why something like long-ago palladium poisoning was going to negatively impact the administering of a cure in the present day when it was irrelevant to the RNA programming. Tony sighed and said the man was suffering from target fixation that prevented him from seeing everything around the problem.

"I'm not worried my exposure to heavy metals or radiation is an issue," he explained. "I'm saying the events of my life, my most basic experiences are not a part of the many simulations you ran using Steve as your control. You've been on this nonstop by yourself for months; that's why you missed it. Buddy, you didn't factor in the most important points because they are so elementary that you took it for granted Steve had them, too. Gramps and I are not alike where it matters most. Bruce, you know this. One of these things is not like the other."

Banner shook his head and stated he didn't follow the logic. Others in the room offered him similarly blank stares except for Wanda. She nodded slowly. Given her history, Tony was not surprised she caught on. He nodded his thanks to her even though she looked disappointed with her understanding.

"This is true to the very core," she said.

"Thank you for following along," Tony said to her then turned to Cap to help illuminate the others. "Steve, how many vaccines did you have before you got the serum back in '42?"

He shrugged and said he didn't recall precisely. The Army had given him a lot of shots when he first joined. Prior to that, he didn't see doctors much because his family couldn't afford it.

"Precisely," Tony said and held out his hand as though Cap's answer was the whole argument then he turned to look at Banner. "You want to opine for the room on this from your virology lab days in college? Tell the class some of the main difference between vaccines of the 1930s through the early '40s and those doled out from the 1970s onward."

The question and comment hit Banner like Thor's hammer. He stepped back stunned and groaned as he hung his head then pressed a hand to his forehead. He deflated quickly. The speed bump was indeed elementary, and he had missed it entirely (and thus the serious snag in his logic). The issue was something so common and expected that he didn't factor when running his simulations.

"There are a lot of synthetic and engineered antibodies in the more modern vaccines," Banner reported dejectedly.

Silence fell on the room as everyone seemed to ponder what it meant. Fury found his voice first and asked for an explanation. Banner addressed the director like a student confessing after being caught cheating on a test: head down and voice dripping with guilt.

"It means I have no idea what the RNA changes I want to program would actually do when they encountered Tony's cellular composition," Banner said. "I didn't put vaccines into the specifics on him in my computer tests. I forgot Cap isn't a modern-day subject. I forgot that he's from a different time… different generation. The model made from the composition of his blood is insufficient to give me relevant data."

"Well," Cap offered, "what could happen if the formula encountered modern vaccines? What are the possibilities? What could happen?"

"Mass extinction by an unstoppable mutated virus comes to mind," Tony noted with a shrug to Banner. "Don't make this your Ultron, Bruce. Learn from my mistakes."

Rhodes growled at his friend, but he was not dissuaded.

"I'm giving you the worst-case scenario," Tony continued, "but I think we can all agree it's not worth the chance to find out. By all means, get your computer chewing on updated and relevant data now to make a new model. Absolutely. But I'm guessing it'll take more than a few weeks to spit out some projections with all the variables that got missed initially. When you do that, you also should factor in that whatever chemical the blond space hero allegedly gave me when I got back from Titan, if you didn't already. I have no recollection of getting any cool drugs from her, but if any version of me did get it, you should probably find out what's in it to make sure it didn't leave a little something behind that shouldn't be replicated or poked with a stick by some rewired RNA. What was that stuff called again?"

"Xorrian Elixir," Rhodes answered promptly.

Quickly naming the medicine Captain Marvel brought back to Earth to help restore Tony's health after he nearly died infection, starvation, dehydration, and suffocation upon leaving Titan swiftly drew everyone's attention.

"What?" the Air Force colonel wondered at their sudden stares. "I remember things, too. Besides Carol and I are friends. We talked about what that stuff was after she brought some back to help him."

Tony's jaw dropped as he leaned on the table then pointed an accusing finger at Rhodes.

"You _talked_?" he gaped and exhaled as though stunned. "You made the Kessel Run with an alien but never told me?"

Embarrassed and shocked grins exploded around the room as Rhodes sat rigidly in his chair then glared at his friend.

"Thanks for sharing that with the room, pal," Rhodes groaned.

"Hey, I'm finding out way after the fact with everyone else here," Tony charged.

"Actually, you're the one telling everyone in the room," Rhodes argued.

"Because I just found out," Tony scoffed. "See, this is why I question whether we're still close friends. You used to tell me these things. Well, not these things, because I think this was a first, but maybe not. Apparently, you keep secrets from me. That hurts. I thought there was trust between us, but now? You've changed, Rhodey."

"Oh god, here we go," Rhodes muttered beneath his breath as he hung his head before looking up and speaking through clenched teeth. "Or maybe I did tell you, but you've just forgotten."

"No, that I would remember," Tony disagreed. "I know me. I'd have years of text messages containing various forms of praise and harassment saved about it, probably a whole sector on my server dedicated to…"

"Enough," Rhodes shook his head. "I'll tell you (_again_) later, okay?"

Cap cleared his throat like a disappointed teacher trying to gain control of an unruly study hall. He reminded them both that this was not the time nor the place for this topic as serious matters deserved serious attention.

"You're like 30 years too late to teach him that lesson," Rhodes folded his arms but fought a smirk as Tony grinned at him and mouthed the words _'an alien—wow'_. "It's the one thing he can't learn: how to mind his own damn business."

Meanwhile, Banner refused to let go of his idea. He brought the meeting back to the topic and argued that Tony's points for objection merely added more steps to the process rather than derailed it. He vowed he would go back to the lab and rerun all possible scenarios. As he spoke, his voice grew more distant, however, as a realization dawned on him. Testing was the answer, and it could prove his theory both right and safe. Unfortunately, to test for everything and give it sufficient incubation time to reach critical mass could take up to six months. He strategically (and he thought compassionately) didn't mention that was time his estimates proved Tony did not have.

"So what we've figured out here?" Tony began with a hard glint in his eyes. "First, most interestingly, is that Rhodey took the whole women are from Venus thing literally and scored at least a one-night stand after using 'interstellar. com.' Surprised, but proud of you, buddy. Next, coming in a dismal second is that Bruce (who is now a confessed cyber thief) didn't do all of his homework. I think we can all clearly read from his sudden silence and the depressed look of his pouty, green lips, that apparently when I told everyone at my house that it wasn't a farewell gathering, I was wrong. So, Jolly Green, you got an estimate for how much time before the dysprosium stops working entirely?"

"I don't know," Banner admitted in a cagey fashion. "I can run some simulations."

"Great—looking forward to your calculations," Tony clapped his hands together then looked around the room at sullen and uncomfortable faces. "I know, I hate long meetings, too. Technically, this is I-Spy's discussion, but I think we can all agree it's time we adjourn. However, before we do, I want everyone's word—every last one of you—that you won't tell Pepper what we've talked about today. Not a word of it. At all. There's nothing she can do and letting her know will just ruin what time we've got left."

"You don't know how much time that is," Fury offered.

"You're right, I don't," Tony nodded. "But I'm doing the math."

The remark was a sobering shot to everyone in the room. He received reluctant nods after he held up his hand letting it be known he was not entertaining any alternative suggestions or pleas. Once assured of their silence, he moved on to his next requirement.

"Everything I said about not telling Pepper goes for the kid and Happy, too," Tony added. "Telling Happy is as good as telling Pepper, and I've got Peter focused on college applications. I'd like it to stay that way."

The group reluctantly agreed before being dismissed by Fury. He left the room first, averting his eyes from Tony as he walked out. Banner left with some urgency in his step but also would not meet Tony's eyes. Wanda patted his shoulder before departing. He got a curt nod from Sam that might have been the nicest thing the man ever said to him. Rhodes remained in his seat, staring at Tony with worry bleeding from his eyes. Cap, too, stayed behind.

"So, you're giving up?" Rhodes remarked.

"No," Tony answered. "I'm just not laying a bet on a magic bullet while hoping it doesn't end the rest of humanity by accident. The dysprosium is still working. It's not as effective as it was at the start, but it's still got some kick left. I'll wait to see what timeline Bruce gives me, but he hurried out of here for a reason. Time is a factor."

"I don't know if this is suicidal or just some twisted tantrum," Rhodes charged. "We needed to get your head examined along with your blood."

"According to Pepper, I'm adorably eccentric, not actually crazy," Tony smiled but got a frown in return. "I'm being realistic and cautious—that's for everyone's sake, Rhodey. It's also the right thing, and you know it. Everyone in this room knew it—even Bruce. It's just that no one wanted to say it, so I did it for all of you."

"But this is your life we're talking about," Rhodes argued.

"I know, and I'm not ignoring the problem," Tony said. "I'm acknowledging it. I shouldn't be here as it is. I got some bonus time. It's been good, but I'm not surprised it didn't last. I don't know when it will end. Will I get to see Morgan's school pictures?" His eyes watered as he spoke, but the tears would not fall as he blinked them back rapidly. "Not likely. Am I'm gonna meet my son and hold him? Yeah, even if I have to hold myself together with duct tape to do it. I'll get to say goodbye this time at least."

"Tony," Rhodes persisted, "your family deserves to know now."

"They will know when I decide the time is right," he replied. "It's my life. My choice. I'll live it the way I'll end it: on my terms."

Rhodes grunted and muttered under his breath "again" to Tony's assessment. He huffed as he got up and walked out. Tony watched him go then turned eyes to Cap, who stared back at him with a dismal gaze flooded with premature grief and regret, but still, he nodded with understanding and pride.

**oOoOo**


	28. Chapter 28

**oOoOo**

Time has a filthy habit of speeding up when one needs it to slow down and slowing down when an accelerator is needed.

Tony and Peter found themselves on opposite sides of the phenomena as spring kicked into high gear. Tony felt the pull of the hours on his stamina while doing what he could to not give Pepper reasons to worry. Harley was an invaluable help in corralling Morgan throughout the day so that Tony didn't expend his energy chasing her. The days flew by in rapid succession, drawing closer to an unknown yet inevitable ending date.

Things were a little different in the city where Peter was suffering through agonizingly long classes that dragged on and on for no good reason. His nights were a little hectic. He was patrolling again and found that the warmer weather brought out the vandals, the car thieves, and the burglars in greater numbers. Compared to fighting for his life against an alien army intent upon wiping out all life on earth, the Queens criminals were easy to dispatch, but it was time consuming. Unlike the school days, his nights disappeared in a blink.

Once he arrived in the morning for classes, though, it was as though someone hit pause on all the clocks. He was certain he could easily have taken an outline from his teachers, hit his books for three or four hours, and been up to speed on his lessons with time to spare before lunch. He woke each day with a new eagerness that he didn't quite understand but that beat the dreary moping he'd struggled through since the fall. His friends noticed the change and offended him slightly by asking if he was finally taking some medication for his depression. Ned was at least kinder. After a few weeks of noticing but not saying anything, he cornered Peter in the hallway after physics lab and asked if his new mood was due to him meeting a girl.

The funny thing was, just as Ned asked that question, Peter's phone rang startling them both. The name that flashed on his screen was "Morgan."

"Who is Morgan?" Ned asked eagerly as Peter blinked. "Is that the girl? It's a girl, right?"

"Um, I'm not entirely sure," he said.

He ducked out of the moving queue of students flowing down the hall. He pressed himself against a bank of lockers as he answered.

"Hello?"

"Peter?" Morgan's voice carried longingly over the ether. "Where are you?"

"Uh, Morgan, is that you?" he replied with rising in his chest. "Hey, uh, is something wrong?"

"Yes," she sighed. "You didn't come back to play."

"Play?" Peter repeated. "Are you alright?"

"No," she whined. "I want you to come play with me."

"How did you get my number?" he asked. "Why do you have a phone? Why is your number in my phone?"

The answer was obvious when it sailed down the line. It left Peter both grinning and hanging his head for missing the obvious.

"Gee, let's ponder that one," Tony said. "I think she might know someone who is pretty savvy with technology."

"Oh, uh," Peter began and looked around to make sure he wasn't being observed closely as he checked himself not to identify his caller. "Hi… sir. What, um, is going on? Do you need my help for anything? 'Cause I'm not busy really right now."

"You're supposed to be in school," Tony replied. "It looks like you're on the third floor near the physics lab, which is good because you were supposed to be in that class until five minutes ago."

"I was," Peter replied. "I'm just saying that I've got a study hall next and if I'm needed elsewhere…"

"When are you coming home?" Morgan asked.

"Am I on speakerphone?" Peter wondered, picturing the two of them in Tony's garage lab/workshop and yearning to be there where he might learn something that wasn't easily gleaned from a simple read of a textbook.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "We were spying on you, and she hit the call button before I could stop her."

"Spying on me?"

"Calling it remote viewing would make it sound like I feel guilty, which I don't," Tony said. "You skipped two classes last week. Why?"

Peter rambled through an explanation about the difference between skipping and accidentally missing. For one, he overslept. Aunt May was already gone to work and didn't make sure he was up that morning which led to him missing the bus. The second was legitimate and expected miss as he had a dentist appointment and merely arrived late. He just forgot to get a note to excuse his tardiness.

"So you're keeping track of my attendance now?" Peter asked. "Why? Am I in trouble?"

"Last month you were stalking a criminal for a former assassin," Tony said. "You're on probation, kid. I can't ground you exactly, but I can do this. When can I expect to see your MIT application on the college server?"

"Soon," he vowed. "I've been working on getting everything together. I am. I swear. I didn't want to throw it together and not be methodical or thoughtful about it."

"When are you coming home?" Morgan persisted.

"Well, I don't actually live with you so…," he began.

"You can sleep under my bed," she informed him.

"Morgan, lately Peter can barely find his way to a school he's attended for years, what makes you think he can find his way here after visiting only once?" Tony asked her. "Plus, there are no boys allowed in your room. Ever. In fact, all of your stuffed animals with boys' names are getting evicted."

Peter smirked at the side discussion in progress and opted not to correct Mr. Stark's belief that he'd only been to the house once. After all, Peter was working on purging the memory of his first visit. The funeral seemed like a lifetime ago. He was hoping someday soon it would seem like a bad dream and slowly fade into a barely recalled memory. As he thought about it, the bell sounded, letting him know he was now late for the study hall he didn't want to attend in the first place.

"Pete, you're not moving," Tony noted. "Shouldn't you be in a classroom or on your way to one?"

"How do you know I'm not?" Peter asked as he started hurrying toward the stairs.

"Because I'm watching you on a security camera take the stairs three at a time," Tony replied. "I don't recommend trying to lie to me. You're not good at it."

"No, sir," he huffed as he slid around a corner and made eye contact with the teacher who was about to close the door and declare him officially late. "I have got go."

"You have to submit your applications," Tony ordered. "Now, hang up. I'll try to keep Morgan from calling you for a playdate during school hours."

Peter's teacher eyed him curiously. Most of the staff had been worried about him since the start of the school year. All the students who disappeared were considered at risk for adjustment issues and depression. Peter seemed to suffer more than most until recently. The thing that troubled so much of the faculty was not his grades—those were stellar as always—it was his lack of interest in the future. He hadn't asked a single one of them for recommendation letters for his college applications even though several had written them in anticipation. He hadn't reported a single college acceptance to the guidance office. He hadn't submitted a single update on where he would be next year to the yearbook committee.

"No calls during the school day," his teacher looked at him sternly. "Who were you talking to?"

"Uh," he paused and decided not to lie but also not tell the full truth, "it was this guy calling about my application to MIT."

"Oh," the teacher nodded with all worry and inclination to give him detention melting from his face. "Were you accepted?"

"Not yet," Peter said cagily. "My application isn't completed. He was just checking in with me about it."

"He's from admissions office?"

"Um, no," he shook his head. "He's an alumni who's been… recruiting me. I met him during my Stark internship. He was just following up after our last meeting."

The teacher nodded with only a hint of doubt on his face. He gestured for Peter to take his seat as the senior felt his face go red with relief and latent anxiety.

_Mr. Stark was right_, he thought, _I'm not good at lying. I can barely tell the truth to be deceptive._

As he made his way to an open desk, his phone vibrated signaling he had a text message. He glanced at it to see it was again from Morgan (complete with avatar of a large bunny).

"_Are you in study hall yet?"_ it asked.

He replied in the affirmative.

"Sitting down now to study for exams next week," he tapped his reply.

"_Application deadlines get met first_," the message responded. "_Morgan's keeping an eye on U. Don't teach her delinquency_."

Back at the lake, Tony observed the student drop into his seat and stuff his phone into his pocket before pulling a book out of his bag then begin reading. Morgan sat on Tony's lap and frowned as the picture disappeared.

"Can Happy bring Peter home tonight?" she asked.

"No," Tony said. "You don't own him—either of them actually. Can we talk about your newfound interest in older men? I'm not liking that."

"I don't broccoli," she added. "Or mosquitos."

"I wasn't making a list of dislikes," he said.

"I want to go to the tall building," Morgan whined and turned her dark, expectant eyes on him. "We never go there anymore."

"You're sick of staying here all the time?" Tony guessed and got a nod. "Me, too. Sorry, kido, that's my fault. You know, they used to have a book reading in the park for kids every Saturday."

"The library lady near the mushrooms?" she asked eagerly, correctly identifying the Alice in Wonderland sculpture of the Mad Hatter's Tea Party in the park where the NY City Library held a children's story hour on weekends during nice weather. "We went there. Remember?"

"Sorry, sweetie, I don't," Tony said. "You liked it?"

She nodded and asked if they could go again. It pained him to see the eagerness in her face for something so easily doable yet so far from possible for him. It was also not simple for Pepper either at this stage. She was tired at the end of her days and put the city (and the commute to it) far from her mind when she came home each night. Asking her to trek back to the helipad on her Saturday morning to return to the city for an hour-long book reading in the park was cutting into the time she could relax. Of course, there was a solution for that, Tony realized.

"You and Mom don't get a lot of alone time with me around, do you?" he asked his little girl as he brushed her hair from her face.

"Mommy's tired," Morgan nodded and wrinkled her nose. "It's _his_ fault."

"It's not exactly your brother's fault," Tony offered, sidestepping Morgan's new peeve: anything to do with her unborn brother. "Hey, what do you say to you and Mom having a girls-only night? You could go back to the apartment in the city and spend the night there with Mommy. Then you could go to story hour in the park the next day. Want to do that?"

Her face lit up, and she shouted her approval and threw her tiny arms around his neck for an exuberant hut. Tony didn't even mind that she never asked if he was joining her. It wouldn't be hard to plan most of the excursion. The penthouse was still theirs—he'd checked to see what real estate they still owned to fill in his memory gap. It turned out only the house in Dubai was no longer theirs having been sold around the time of Morgan's birth. Transportation was also a simple matter. The helicopter flew without a pilot and could be summoned back to the house with a simple computer command. That just left a question of timing. Tony was pondering it when Morgan gave him the answer by announcing she was hungry.

**oOoOo**

The lights were on in several rooms at the sanctuary on Bleeker Street. Strange was on day four without substantial sleep. Wong had switched him to decaf on day two, but Strange just opened a sling portal to the coffee shop down the street and swapped out his useless cup of depressing warm, brown water on his own for something more high-test.

"It's here," he told himself over and over as he flipped the pages of yet another book. "I know it's here."

There was an incantation he'd seen years earlier. It dealt with the mirror dimension and bringing something into fruition from it—taking a reflection of an image and making it real in that dimension. It was strictly for training purposes, but someone in the 11th century got other ideas and tried to bring the object back into the real world. The results were catastrophic for the item and the carrier. Both melted or burned up or turned into some sort of viscus goo. The problem wasn't the end result of breaching the plane between the dimensions (other than whatever schmuck had to do clean up). The problem was that it gave another student, a smarter, more ambitious student an idea. That idea was what Strange sought.

"Wong!" he called out. "There's got to be another book! I know I saw something about this. It's a medieval spell. I didn't read it because I didn't know what the mirror dimension was at the time."

A heavy book dropped onto the table. Strange jumped and looked up to see his cohort staring at him with a frown and heavy brow.

"Ahmotaidu," he said simply.

"I'm a Libra," Strange replied. "So what?"

"Ahmotaidu is the ritual," Wong explained. "It does not work. It was believed the dead could be made to live again if the body was brought into the mirror dimension and a spell conducted to reverse dying. A body may be reanimated, but life is not restored and whatever is given energy to move again cannot leave the mirror dimension without suffering destruction from within."

"Which is precisely what's happening to Tony Stark," Strange noted as he flipped open the dusty book. "The question is, how did they get his body."

"Who is they?" Wong asked.

"That is another question someone should answer," Strange nodded. "I'd be willing to bet one of the answers is Mordo, or someone Mordo trained."

"Tony Stark's body was cremated," Wong said unnecessarily. "Ashes cannot be reanimated in this way. He was not brought to life again using this spell."

"No, he was not," Strange said as he continued to scan the text. "He was however, brought here from a place where he was not yet dead. I think whoever did that used the mirror dimension as a portal to augment a stolen moment of time into full-blown existence using a variation of the Ahmotiadu spell."

Wong stared at the man, not because the idea was ludicrous but because the possibility of it terrified him. If someone made such a thing work, any number of evils could be brought into existence. People were mortal. They were meant to live but a short time in the grand scheme. Knowing that life would end was what motivated people to do something with their lives and to go on after losing those they loved because that which was lost could not be brought back. Tony Stark was straddling two worlds. He was dead—Wong and the others saw that happen—but he was very much alive as they saw the previous month at his home.

"His life force is unstable," Wong agreed as he considered what he observed when spending time with the man. "He is not completely the man who first came here when Dr. Banner returned to warn of Thanos's arrival."

"No, he is not," Strange shook his head, "but he's also not a different man either. I'm certain of it."

"It is not your job to save him," Wong advised.

"Agreed," Strange continued. "But finding out how he got here is. Not long after he arrived, someone began trying to watch me. I've felt the energy of remote projections. That's why I got these."

He pulled up his sleeves to show swirling tattoos like snakes entwined with diamonds and arrows. They stretched from his wrists to his elbows. Wong nodded, recognizing the ancient blocking sigils of Sise-Neg, a time traveling alien sorcerer who banished a pre-Earth entity called Shuma-Gorath. Strange obtained the sigils once he sensed he was being followed by a familiar presence. The longer he meditated on it, the more he became convinced it was Mordo.

"Mordo would not be involved in violating universal law," Wong predicted. "He broke with the Ancient One for her failure to follow her own teachings. He would not be so hypocritical."

Strange agreed while shaking his head.

"No, he wouldn't," he said as he read faster, feeling time was of the essence of a number of reasons. "That's why whatever he's doing, he's not doing it of his own free will. Anyone powerful enough to control Mordo is someone we need to stop."

"What does that mean for Stark?" Wong asked. "Surely he is no longer a factor."

"I'm more concerned with who is controlling Mordo," Strange said, "but I think to do that, we need to figure out how Tony got back here. If we don't figure out that out soon, I don't think Tony will last much longer. No medicine or chemical Banner gives him now is going to make any difference."

**oOoOo**

Ghost received a text message as the sun began setting and felt a wondrous calm intoxicate his nerves. The plan was coming together more simply than he expected. He had Tony to thank for that—his insatiable need to be where he shouldn't be and test the boundaries no reasonable man would even contemplate. The man's ego was his greatest detriment, but it was Ghost's trump card. He needed only to wait and his nemesis—and the answer to his problems—would be with him and at his mercy.

**oOoOo**

Thick rumbling clouds had cloaked the sky all afternoon leaving Pepper's office dark and depressing. Her day took a turn for the worse when she received word from Germany that the visiting Stark Industries contingent had experienced some difficulties. What precisely those difficulties were, she was having a difficult time nailing down as all of her calls to DeLeer went unanswered. The six-hour time difference was hardly insurmountable, but it was making matters tedious as it seemed the three top delegates sent to the Frankfurt factory were all ignoring calls from the home office. Security confirmed two of the three were at the scheduled presentation that afternoon. DeLeer was a no-show. She was toying with the idea of having security contact the local police to see if they could assist in anyway when Pepper received another unplanned hitch in her schedule.

Martin Sanders, Vice Chairman of the Board of Directors, had demanded a dinner meeting with her that night. Sanders was not an unreasonable man so when he asked for a meeting she generally obliged. The last time he had done so with such abruptness was following the attacks on the UN contingent in Vienna when the Sokovia Accords were ratified. While Stark Industries was not directly involved with the Accords as Tony had severed all day-to-day ties with the company, there was a known association. The Board was worried about headlines back then; meanwhile, Sanders (as it turned out) was worried more about Tony and was hoping Pepper had information as the news had not mentioned his name in their initial coverage of the incident that took the life of the King of Wakanda. She pushed that memory to the side. She remained hopeful yet worried about Tony on her own enough. She didn't need to dredge up angsty memories to make it feel worse in the present.

So, it was with resignation but a sense of obligation, that she had her driver bring her to the midtown Manhattan restaurant—the one with the up and coming chef who got his name in the headlines frequently for his ugly outbursts at customers, which somehow made him a celebrity. She was not looking forward to a media spectacle as the chef's rants usually became fodder for both tabloid and respectable news coverage. Keeping a low profile was her preference given the questions brewing I her mind (thanks to Tony's allegations) regarding her absent company vice president as much as her own desire to not see more media speculation about her private life. Perhaps the only good thing that had come from the mass disappearance of half the population five years earlier was the dramatic drop off in interest of the public in pop culture. With that came something she'd never once experienced as either Tony's employee or his girlfriend: privacy.

She did not wish a return to the uncertain and anguishing days when so many people had lost family members. Pepper just wished the sudden return of those missing people hadn't come with a renewed interest in what everyone else was up to once again. When she got engaged to Tony, there were paparazzi swarming while barking questions about their plans and to see her ring. By the time she married him, they could have gotten married in the middle of Central Park at noon on a Saturday without worrying about anyone crashing the event. Her entire pregnancy with Morgan was never a headline. Now, she was dodging cameras and questions like the previous five years of serenity never occurred. As she arrived at the restaurant, she saw the swarm of cameras lurking on the sidewalk and considered canceling at the last minute until her phone sprang to life with a text message from Sanders.

"_Private dining room. Tell maitre'd the Hudson Room_."

She thought it odd the man sent her a text. Board members were famous for never putting anything in writing (no matter how mundane or innocent) unless it was first reviewed by lawyers; however, Pepper was just grateful they might hold their dinner meeting without dozens of prying and curious ears. She exited the car as the rain began in earnest. She was escorted through the main dining area, keeping her head high and her eyes straightforward to avoid all eye contact. She proceeded down a narrow, dark hall. It was quieter there, an enforced quiet that spoke of soundproofed walls to keep eavesdropping to just those using high-tech equipment.

She was shown into a room at the very end of the hallway. Inside, the walls were a dark, emerald. The corners of the room were nearly pitch black as soft ambient light filtered into only the center of the space from above. A single, round table was at the center of the room decked out with fine china, candles, and three chairs. As the door closed softly yet firmly behind her, she stared at the setup, wondering if she'd been brought to the right place. She was prepared to turn and around and exit when a small voice spoke up.

"Mommy!" Morgan rushed at her and hugged her knees before waving a soggy piece of paper at her. "I made you a card!"

It was still damp from glue and a heavy hand with markers. Glitter rained from it as it got waved through the air. Pepper was grappling with the knowledge that her daughter was present (when she was supposed to be an hour away from safely landing on a rooftop at the penthouse) as she stooped over with considerable effort to hug the child.

"Morgan?" she gaped as she lifted her up. "Sweetie, what are you doing here? I'm supposed to be having a business dinner. Happy brought you to the wrong place. He was supposed to bring you to the apartment later tonight."

"Or," Tony said stepping out of the darkened corner, "Happy got the night off because someone sabotaged your schedule."

Pepper gasped in surprise and whipped her head around to make sure the door behind her was closed. Then she turned stern eyes back to her husband.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. "I'm having dinner meeting with one of the shareholders."

"Yes," he grinned. "You are—just not the one you were expecting. Where your schedule said you'd be meeting with Sanders, it should have said Stark."

"You can't do this," she shook her head.

"I can, and I did," Tony nodded. "You have meetings with shareholders all the time. This time, the controlling shareholder wanted some of your time. I just used Sander's name to fool your secretary. I've never met this one, but she's very accommodating."

"Oh god," Pepper groaned. "This is such a bad idea."

"It's a fabulous idea," Tony disagreed as he led her toward the table. "Don't worry, Pep. I know how to schmooze with a CEO. Rule one, never go to the meeting alone—always bring a good looking, clever date." He then nodded at Morgan. "Done."

"This is not funny," Pepper said with her nostrils flaring. "This is going to end badly."

"It's actually one of the best ideas I've had in a while," he continued. "Trust me. I have the inside track on this meeting. Not a chance it won't be successful since I'm sleeping with the CEO, and she's having my baby. Don't tell anyone; that's kind of a secret."

He placed a kiss on her cheek that reddened her face but did not erase the flat line of her mouth or the tightness of her jaw as she held tightly to their daughter while battling the urge to strangle him.

"You're unbelievable," she scoffed.

"And you're greedy," Tony offered while plucking Morgan from her grip and putting her back on her feet. "You get to lug the other one around; you don't get to hang on to both of them, especially if you're going to be cranky."

She buried her face in her hands and shook her head. When she spoke, it was in a strained and worried whisper that was at odds with how he had initially predicted the evening would go.

"Why are you doing this?" Pepper demanded. "We've been so careful until now."

"There's nothing to worry about," Tony insisted. "When we made the plans for you and Morgan to have some alone time here in the city this weekend, I just added a little me part to the beginning. I'm playing chaperone and made dinner reservations for us—Morgan was insistent about this."

"Morgan is four," Pepper replied flatly.

"A precocious and persistent four, who will be five in August," he nodded. "While making the plans for you to have your little overnight getaway with her…"

"And demonstrating that you possess the impulse control of a four-year-old yourself," she muttered.

"…I remembered you said you were a little tired of the old routine," he continued, "and how the same thing every night at the house was getting on your nerves."

"You said that," she corrected him. "Not me."

"Well, we can agreed on this," Tony shrugged unconcerned. "This is something different."

Pepper tried to impress upon him the possibility that he would be seen. He was the one so adamant about avoiding public exposure, yet he had done a 180 degree turn without consulting her. It was erratic behavior that worried her to her core. He'd given up those caustic, knee-jerk reactions years earlier, yet now they were storming back. The last time she recalled him being so blatantly reckless for no apparent cause, he was dying from a poison caused by the arc reactor that was keeping his heart beating.

"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

"I'm reminding you that I'm stealthy," he smiled.

"You're not," she shook her head. "You're a colossal extrovert when you feel trapped or like you have no control over a situation. That's when you behave like this."

"Okay," he nodded. "It's not a secret that I've been going a little stir crazy. You've got to admit that of all the things I might have done to beat that, this is pretty reserved and sane."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, but this should," he answered. "I got permission from Fury's team to leave the lake, so this isn't quite as dangerous as you seem to think."

She scoffed and pointed out that there was a billboard with his face on it two blocks from where they stood. It was one of many memorial murals polka doting much of the civilized world. Months since his reported death may have passed, but the public was not yet done grieving Iron Man.

"We saw Daddy's picture," Morgan added, reminding both parents that she was present and listening. "It was pretty."

"Handsome or dashing," Tony suggested to her. "Those are the words we use for describing me, Morgoona."

"Reckless and irresponsible seem more appropriate," Pepper countered. "I should have chained you to a wall."

"Kinky," he grinned. "I'll see what I can arrange for us later."

He reached his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze only to have her gasp and grip his hand as she lifted it to look at more closely. A bruise bloomed in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

"Where did this come from?" she asked. "This is a new bruise. Are they any others? Did you call Bruce and tell him? Did you finish your treatment this morning?"

The urgency in her voice was both touching and insulting. She had yet to trust him to take his treatments on his own. It felt like being a child again. At least then, he told himself, the butler was kinder when accusing Tony of not doing what he was supposed to do.

"I took my metal like a good boy," he said trying not to snarl. "Then I accidentally pinched my hand with vice grips while assembling a robotic arm around lunchtime. I'm not hemorrhaging through my digits, Pepper. This is a legit engineering injury. I get them all the time."

"I need you in bed wrapped in bubble wrap," she sighed heavily as the tension left her shoulders.

"Wow," Tony grinned as he pulled her close. "Chains, bubble wrap, and bed? That's some pretty forward propositioning in front of the K-I-D, honey. Maybe you're right and dinner's a bad idea. Let's call Happy to pick up Morgan while you and I…"

"This body is no shaped for whatever you've got in mind," she nudged him away.

Tony was not dissuaded. He kissed the side of her neck

"I'm an engineer," he said. "I could make anything work."

She sighed and let him know their two moods were polar opposites at that moment. She was pleased he was in a good mood. He'd been aloof and sullen lately, which only added to her worry. She asserted that her fear that night was well-founded.

"Someone is going to see you," she said. "This is New York City. There are cameras everywhere from the buildings to the street lights to the eight million residents with phones in their pockets, not to mention the 50 people on the other side of that door who either know you or would recognize you in a second."

Tony assured her that while some of what she said was undoubtedly true, there was no reason to think any of the people in their immediate vicinity posed any threat to him. Her extended worries about crowds of admirers rushing at him and causing unintentional harm were also greatly exaggerated in his opinion.

"They might want to fondle and get a little frisky with huggable, loveable me, but my fans have always been gentle," he grinned.

"Stop," she commanded as her eyes flooded. "This isn't a joke. It isn't a game, Tony. I'm genuinely afraid for you."

Tony sighed. This was not how the evening was supposed to go. She was supposed to be pleasantly surprised to see him and be impressed with the private dinner he was going to spring on her before she went back to the penthouse with Morgan; then she was supposed to miss him desperately for the rest of the night which would facilitated her acquiescing the next night when he suggested they have cheeseburgers for dinner.

"You're supposed to be happy to see me," he groaned.

Pepper sighed then cupped his cheek gently.

"I am," she assured him. "I just need you to be more careful. This was reckless. Don't pout. I know you meant well. I appreciate the gesture, but don't tell me this was anything more than you succumbing to boredom."

He sighed and couldn't think of useful or believable counter argument. The fact that she was like 88 percent right didn't help, but the 12 percent on his side wasn't nothing. It just wouldn't win him any points. Instead, he shrugged then nodded as she began worrying how they would sneak him out of the restaurant without being seen. Her chief worry was the staff who would surely be entering the private room soon to take orders.

"See, this is where being a genius helps a bit," he noted as he guided her to a chair helped her sit down. "I came in the back under cover of darkness—full-on gang-rapper style with a hoodie and bodyguards surrounding me. Seriously, no one saw us enter. We had eyes in the alley. It was clear. Besides, you know this place. It caters to wealthy people who like privacy. The obnoxious assholes looking to be seen and get their names in the headlines come in through the front door."

"That was a bad word," Morgan said to her father as she climbed into what remained of her mother's lap.

"Yes, it was," Tony nodded as Pepper scowled at him. "You'll notice Mommy was in the room when it was said. I've told you about her language."

"She doesn't swear because of me," Pepper reminded him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "If you ask her where most these words come from, you might be surprised."

Rather than press his luck further, he continued to explain the strategy that made his arrival possible that evening. He booked a private room known for the ultimate in over-the-top New York incognito guests. The highest level of privacy at the establishment required that the party to bring their own wait staff. The food order was submitted in advance and would be brought to what amounted to a lazy Susan in the wall that prevented the kitchen staff from even having a clue of who dined in the private space. The owner guaranteed confidentiality as it would keep the business pulling in high-paying clients. The extra measures for privacy also prevented the establishment from being accused of breaking confidences or having employees get called to testify later in whatever divorce, insider trading, or international scandal got concocted in the secretive rooms. Adding to the secrecy was the temperamental chef, who was such a snob that he never wanted to know for whom he was cooking unless he was screaming them out of the establishment. After all, in his opinion, the only name that mattered was his.

"How is this private if you had to hire a staff?" she demanded.

Tony nodded then walked to a door at the back of the room that was shrouded in the shadows. He knocked four times rapidly then the door opened.

"Say hello to the man posing as your waiter," Tony said as a tall, blond, muscled man looking out of place in a suit that was tight on his shoulders and his shirt looked ready to send a button flying if it the threads let loose from the stress of bulging pectorals.

"Mr. Benton?" Pepper blinked as she recognized one of the guards from the house.

"It's just Greg for the evening, honey," Tony corrected her. "He's incognito, too."

"Good evening, Ma'am," Tony's guard, Greg Benton, smiled and nodded.

"He's not actually playing waiter," Tony explained. "We just needed the manager here to think we had a guy in charge of our private staff. Greg agreed to play along and be the chauffer as well. He needed to score some extra bucks to buy himself and his girlfriend plane tickets to California for her birthday. He wouldn't accept a gift so…"

"I earn my way, Ma'am," the guard said. "I'm learning to, uh, never let anyone hand me anything."

Pepper shook her head and muttered that her husband's quirks were contagious. Benton informed her that he was happy to assist as it gave him a night in the city once his duties were over. He also predicted it would make for a good story someday when he was finally allowed to tell it.

"Is it just you?" Pepper asked. "We have a half a dozen security specialists around the house normally. Is just one of you sufficient for the city?"

"Daddy's friends from work are here," Morgan answered for him.

"Friends?" Pepper questioned. "Friends as in…"

"As in the guys from the night crew at the house," Tony explained. "The other two don't know who they're playing look out for—just that Greg told them they needed to work in the city tonight. They swept the restaurant earlier and are watching the street outside while we eat. Afterward, they get a night in the city to do whatever they want. They even got bonuses for this. Look, I didn't go overboard. It's not like I called in Rhodey and the rest of the band."

"This is one time you should have been a bit more extreme," she sighed tensely. "Thank you… Greg. I appreciate your willingness to go along with this very sweet but ultimately bad idea. You will be amply compensated for your time and efforts."

Tony jerked his head to the side, dismissing the guard. Once he was gone, Tony took a seat beside his wife. Her face remained in a disappointed frown as she held tightly to Morgan who looked from one parent to the other.

"Pepper, relax," he said. "This was not just some thoughtless whim. This is me remembering and commemorating an important day."

"It's a Friday, Tony," Pepper shook her head. "There's one every week. They're not unique or special. They're routine and typical."

Tony scoffed and shook his head as he turned to his partner in crime.

"She thinks it's just Friday," Tony said to Morgan. "Do you want to tell her what today is?"

Morgan grinned widely then pointed at her colorful card again.

"Daddy said this is the day you didn't say no," she added helpfully. "I said you still say no."

"Present condition disproves that," Tony muttered and smirked.

Pepper cut her eyes at him to no avail. His grin persisted as he reminded her that it was the date on which he officially and formally proposed to her and she finally said yes to him. She nodded, recalling the event but then maintaining her objection as she believed he merely scraped around for a reason and only by chance found one.

"That may be true," he confessed. "But that doesn't make it incorrect history or a bad reason to take the amazing women in my life out for dinner. Pep, I know you're anxious, but don't be. It'll be fine. There are stealthy commando babysitters around us—which you have to agree is a huge step in caution and humility for the guy who for a decade was the Earth's best defender."

"That title went to your head," she sighed.

"Not the point right now," he continued. "Here's the plan. We have dinner and enjoy it. Then you and Morgan will leave here the same way you came in. She stays with you at the penthouse tonight so tomorrow you can spend the day in the city with her doing whatever you'd like."

"The story lady in the park," Morgan reminded her. "Daddy said we have girls' night tonight, but we can't have dancers."

"Of course he did," Pepper sighed.

"And Happy can see his girlfriend," Morgan continued as she beamed.

Tony confessed his cohort's collusion with him—making it clear that Happy was defenseless to Tony's charm (which Pepper took to mean the former driver/bodyguard was guilted into setting up his boss for the evening's rouse).

"He deserved some time to himself rather than trekking up to the house to escort Morgan here to see you," Tony explained. "This way he can see Aunt _May-be_ tonight instead."

"I don't care how Happy spends his night," Pepper said. "I'm more concerned with what we do with you. We can't sneak you into the penthouse without raising suspicion."

"I'm heading home after dinner," he promised her. "I've got a lift waiting for me at the South Street heliport. It's pouring. No one is going to be looking at anything taking off, and even if they did, they won't be able to see anything."

Pepper worried that it wasn't wise to take the helicopter in the torrential downpour. The physicist and engineer in him needed to dispel her worries with a basic explanation for why his pilot-less helicopter would not have any issue with the weather; he further assured her there was no reason to worry about a helicopter at all. He was actually traveling in a Quinjet—in full stealth mode. There was a guard at the jet currently keeping watch over it. Once Tony landed near the lake, he was not even driving himself back to the house. Rhodes would pick him up and deliver him home.

That settled Pepper's mind somewhat, at least sufficiently that they were able to have dinner and shift the conversation to other topics. An hour later, when the meal was done and Morgan was getting antsy, the departure plan began. Pepper summoned her driver and asked that the car be outside the restaurant so that she could exit without delay. Tony gave his security detail a similar request. He helped Morgan on with her coat as Pepper's worry returned.

"It's a monsoon out there," she said. "Flying in this weather isn't smart. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Pregnancy makes you paranoid," he noted.

"More than 20 years of knowing you and the trouble you find isn't paranoia, Tony," Pepper replied. "I'm basing this worry on facts and patterns. Are you sure you can fly?"

Tony shirked and blinked dramatically.

"Yes, I can fly," he assured her as he held out his hand to help her up, but she did not take it. Instead, her face scrunched and she pressed one of her hands to her belly as she winced. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Just a foot trying to break my rib," she remarked while massaging the spot.

"That strong?"

"A lot of attention seeking behavior in this family tonight," she unclenched her teeth. "Are you sure you will be okay getting back?"

He assured her again that he was fine and that the Quinjet essentially flew itself when the autopilot was engaged. Beyond that, he revealed, he would not be flying solo. He had a copilot.

"Who?" she asked. "Greg Benton isn't a pilot."

"True, but he's not the only one on patrol here," Tony said. "I've got another guy in the alley watching the back door."

"Who?" she insisted. "You said earlier no one else on the security detail knows who they are guarding. How can you have a copilot with you if he doesn't see you?"

"I have a qualified candidate who does know me and who didn't mind hanging around outside," Tony said evasively but crumbled under the weight of her disbelieving stare. He covered Morgan's ears to keep her from wanting to go see his unofficial assistant. "It's Peter."

"Peter?" Pepper huffed.

Morgan lit up and grinned as she heard the name the second time.

"Is Peter coming to sleep over?" she asked her mother.

Both parents answered negatively in unison, which left the little girl pouting.

"Peter has to work on his college applications later tonight and tomorrow," Tony told her. "He'll come to the house after he gets an acceptance letter."

"You think having a high school senior as your copilot is a good idea?" Pepper fumed. "That is as insane as the rest of your plan for this evening. Does he even know how to fly?"

"You see him as a child," Tony argued.

"No more so than you," Pepper countered but was ignored.

"What I have," Tony continued, "is a bona fide superhero with super strength, super coordination, and hyper-tuned senses who help me successfully pilot an alien vessel through space to another planet under conditions much more stressful and uncertain than a little rainstorm."

"You left him outside in this weather this whole time?"

"He's not real spider who's going to get washed out by the rain," Tony replied. "Look, he wasn't supposed to be here at all, but then he showed up. I'm guessing Aunt May wanted to hang a Happy sock on the door so he..."

"Tony," she said with clenched teeth. "Focus."

"The kid heard from Happy where we were so he showed up and offered to play lookout," Tony confessed. "I said no and that he should go home, which is when I found out Happy's name is Lucky for the night. Anyway, he started begging, and he's kind of like water torture when he does that. So, I said he could join the security detail if he absolutely wanted to but that I would prefer it if he didn't. Naturally, he stayed because defying me is the only thing he seems to do better than pleasing me."

He explained about offering Peter money to go get something to eat somewhere dry or go to a movie to get out of the stormy weather, but the teen was adamant about sticking around. Pepper's worry was split between Peter being out in the rainstorm and Tony's actual travel home.

"I will be fine," he promised. "As for Peter, he probably spun himself a hammock under the eaves of the building and is sitting there dry and anxious to jump in and think he's my bodyguard. I'll have Greg buy him a pizza and some ice cream then make him promise to brush his teeth before bed. Trust me. Peter will love it. It'll be a life highlight for him. I'm kind of making his week here."

"The sad thing is, I believe that," she groaned. "I really do need to get you two into therapy."

Tony rolled his eyes as he finished securing Morgan's zipper and kissed her cheek as he bid her goodnight.

"G'night, Daddy," she hugged him and whispered, "I love you 3000."

"I love you that times three," he said. "Be good for Mommy. Go to bed and don't be nuisance."

"But I'm not tired," Morgan insisted as she yawned.

"Yeah, but it's not about how tired you are so much as it's about how tired you're making everyone else," Tony ruffled her hair.

"Can Mommy read me a story?"

"I don't get to tell Mommy what to do," Tony remarked, seeing the worry and weariness on Pepper's face. "But I don't think she can't read much tonight. She left her reading eyes at the office. She can see furniture, people, and food only—and not in that order."

Pepper scoffed at the discussion as Tony warned her she'd thank him for it if Morgan decided she wanted to read War and Peace. Before Pepper could stand, she groaned sharply again. She hunched her shoulders in pain as seethed and winced. Tony noted the distinct difference in the reaction from her previous wince and quickly squeezed her hand.

"It's nothing," she assured him as she exhaled. "Just a little twinge."

"Twinge?" he repeated. "What kind of twinge?"

"Who's the worrier now?" she smiled thinly.

"What kind of twinge?" he persisted.

"Tony, it's fine," she said sitting straighter as her shoulders relaxed. "It's a little, quick contraction. With just seven weeks to go, these are going to start happening once in a while. I got them from time to time with Morgan at the end. They're nothing to worry about."

"They don't seem like nothing," he said urgently, feeling is heart thumping fast and irregular in his chest.

Pepper chuckled lightly and squeezed his hand reassuringly as she smirked.

"You know, for a superhero, you're not very calm in a moment of uncertainty," she teased.

"When the world is ending, I've got my head on straight," Tony replied. "When my wife is doubled over in pain and our baby might be in distress, it's a different feeling. My brain goes to a whole different set of protocols. The big picture gets me to focus. It's always the small stuff that makes me crazy, you know that."

"You say I'm fretting when I worry about mechanical trouble during unstable weather, but you freaking out about Braxton-Hicks is normal?" she remarked. "You're sweet but sexist… and pathetic."

Tony frowned but placed his hand on her stomach and addressed the unborn.

"Mom's more composed than me, but I can still give you orders," he said. "Stop threatening to move out. You're grounded until the end of July so stay in your room."

He helped Pepper stand and slip into her coat. She received a text message letting her know the car was out front and waiting. She draped her arms over Tony's shoulders and pressed her lips briefly to his.

"Get home safely," she said. "Call me when you get there, okay?"

"You worry too much, Ms. Potts," he smiled.

**oOoOo**


	29. Chapter 29

**oOoOo**

The rain fell from the sky like a fire hose was loose on the top of every building. After Pepper and Morgan left, Tony ducked out the back door with his hood up and slid into the car waiting for him. He keyed a text message to his wall-walking sidekick and told Benton to wait before pulling into traffic. As the car idled, Tony stared at his phone waiting several minutes for a response. His driver was getting impatient—something Greg Benton had never done in Tony's presence before—and seemed ready to announce that for security reasons they needed to leave. Fortunately, there was a tap on Tony's window.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said, his face obscured by the darkness and his mask, "there are guys taking a lot of photos out front like there's a movie star or someone inside."

"That's because there probably is," Tony replied through the open window. "Where are Pepper and Morgan?"

"In the car, heading downtown," Peter replied. "They got their photos taken too, but I don't think anyone followed them because then another car pulled up and a lady in a gold dress that looked like it was made of lights blinking got out and all the camera flashes started going off again."

Tony nodded, glad the interest was for anyone coming or going that night rather than anyone in particular. He never minded getting his photo taken. It had happened to him all his life, something his father told him to ignore like teachers with bad attitudes, board members with pointless opinions, and reporters trying to make a name for themselves. But it felt different when his actions put other people through the same treatment. Pepper was used to the spotlight, but it had just occurred to Tony that this might not be something Morgan was used to. He'd have to step up his work on her armadillo-dog to make up for it. He shot off a quick text message to Pepper to check-in. She replied instantly that they were fine. He let her know he was leaving as well and would call later. As he hit send, he noted the rain falling in the car.

"What are you doing?" he asked Peter.

"Waiting to see if you need me to do anything else, sir," he replied.

"Yeah, I need you to not be hanging on the window so the rain comes in," Tony sighed. "Get in the car, Peter, and take the mask off."

Nodding eagerly, Peter pulled off his mask then executed a perfect flip over the car to land gently on the other side before slipping into the back to sit beside Tony. He grinned eagerly expecting to get an assignment.

"Do you want me to follow them?" he asked.

"If I did, I'd have told you to follow them rather than get in with me," Tony pointed out then signaled to Benton to get the car rolling. "I need you to come with me for now."

"I'm coming with you?" Peter asked gleefully. "Yes, sir. Where are we going?"

"Upstate," Tony answered. "I told Pepper you'd be with me for my trip home. Part of his compensation for the night is that Greg's staying here in the city. I was going to fly home solo, but Pepper didn't like that idea. So, unless you want to explain to my wife why you didn't join me as the copilot like I said you would…"

Peter beamed with euphoria as he agreed to the plan, then asked if this meant that he was going to learn how to fly a helicopter.

"No, and it's a Quinjet, not a helicopter," Tony said firmly. "You get to sit there while I fly it. Do you even know how to fly a Quinjet?"

"Well, no," Peter shrugged, "but I can, you know, leap and swing. I tagged along outside of plane when Vulture was trying to rip you off a few…" He paused as he felt Tony's glare on him. "Um, no, sir. I've never flown a Quinjet myself."

"Your copilot duties are to sit there and do nothing but report to Pepper, if she ever asks, that you were in fact my capable, confident but unnecessary copilot," Tony explained. "It's a pretty easy gig, kid."

"Okay, but Aunt May is expecting me to be home tonight," Peter said. "I have a 10:30 curfew. She thinks I'm at Ned's."

"So lying is cool but missing your curfew is not?" Tony asked. "Not judging. Just doing an updated parental calibration here. Missing a curfew would have sent my mother over the edge… did send my mother over the edge actually. Lying and getting caught would have angered my father more."

"He didn't care if you missed curfew?"

"He wouldn't have noticed," Tony replied.

"Oh, well, Aunt May worries," Peter shrugged. "If I'm not home she calls hospitals and police stations. What would your mom do?"

"Call Jarvis," Tony sighed. "He was the head of my parents' family spy network. Now, just so we're clear, if Ned gets busted for trafficking in stolen Star Wars merchandise tonight, I can't be your alibis."

Peter shook his head then blushed as he caught the slight twitch in Tony's eyebrow that let him know the man was joking. Peter then nodded with relief as Tony explained that he would be home on time.

"You'll fly back tonight."

"I can fly the jet back?" Peter gaped.

"Did you suddenly learn to fly anything since the last time we discussed this?"

"No, sir," Peter shook his head. "You, uh, you were testing me?"

"I was being sarcastic, but it amounts to the same thing apparently," Tony sighed then slumped wearily in his seat as the fatigue that hit him more and more each evening began to take hold. "Rhodey's meeting us at the landing site. He's an actual pilot so he'll fly you back. He can probably drop you on your roof even."

Peter nodded and expressed his excitement and thanks. He didn't mind just tagging along for a ride because he was glad to help.

"Did Mrs. Stark enjoy dinner, sir?"

"It's Ms. Potts, actually since she didn't change her name, but just call her Pepper," Tony corrected him. "And yes, she enjoyed the evening. Eating is something that doesn't make her cranky lately. Morgan had a good time, too, except she wanted Happy to join us. He's reclaimed the title of being her favorite toy since she thinks you abandoned her."

Peter blushed at the chiding comment. He'd never been anyone's favorite anything (other than target for ridicule and jokes by Flash). It felt nice having someone younger than him look up to him and think everything he did was amazing then desperately want to show him everything she did. He didn't know if all little kids were that way or if Morgan was simply special. He didn't think it wise to ask either. Captain America's reminder of who was Mr. Stark's favorite was understood.

"If you want, I can come back to visit her and be her board game partner again," Peter replied. "When I spent time with her at Easter, I offered to teach her to play clarinet if she teaches me piano."

"You teach her the clarinet and I'll banish you from the state of New York," Tony said instantly.

Peter chuckled and nodded. The clarinet was an acquired taste. He'd only learned it because he inherited a clarinet. He wasn't overly fond of the instrument. It wasn't something he could take out and play on a street corner to entertain people; although if he continued to be strapped for money, it did remain an option, he supposed. Rather than discuss that, he stuck closer to the topic at hand.

"Well, I'm sure Happy will come see her soon," Peter offered. "He's really great. Morgan's lucky. Both your kids are lucky. How is Mrs. Stark, uh, I mean Pepper feeling, sir?"

"Mostly, she's tired," Tony replied as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "I share that feeling."

"Is that normal?"

"For her?" Tony remarked. "She tells me it is."

The weariness made his head spin. The smooth sound of the engine followed by the hypnotic flash of the bright city lights zipping by did nothing to keep him sharp. He was glad for the kid's company, not so much for someone to talk to but the fact Peter sometimes talked enough for two sets of teeth. That would keep Tony awake if he could just concentrate on hearing what the kid was saying.

"Can't be much longer now, sir—until the baby is born, I mean," Peter continued. "That must be exciting."

_Exciting_? _Terrifying was a better word_, Tony thought.

There were too many ifs surrounding the future for his liking. If the baby was healthy. If he didn't have what was killing his father. If he made it through delivery without incident, and if Pepper was fine as well. There was also the growing if for whether Tony would be around to meet his son. He gave a good performance for Banner and the rest at their gang-only meeting a few weeks earlier, but since then random bruises were appearing—Pepper just hadn't noticed any of those. He could feel fluid in his lungs somedays and the alternating fatigue and dizzy spells were terribly reminiscent of his first memories of waking up at the base in October.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked with urgency as Tony failed to respond. "Is everything okay?"

Tony thrust his eyes open and forced a small smile onto his lips as he nodded.

"Yeah," he said rubbing his eyes. "Just been a long day."

"Are you still taking your… medicine?"

"Stop worrying, Peter," Tony sighed. "You're starting to sound like my mother… or Happy. You know, I never noticed it before, but those two do have a lot in common when it comes to fretting. Mom was obviously better looking."

Peter smirked but noted the subtle shift in the subject. Good sense told him to let it go, but the feeling in his gut would not let him.

"Is there any danger in taking dysprosium for so long?" he wondered. "It's not actually approved as a treatment for… well, anything."

"It's untested," Tony agreed.

"Not that Dr. Banner isn't doing a good job or anything, but maybe there's a way you could get input from some other doctors in the world," Peter suggested. "Like maybe he could be smooth about it and reach out with like a hypothetical problem that matches your condition, and then they could give him other ideas that maybe he hasn't thought of yet. I'm just saying that teamwork can sometimes be better than going it alone."

Tony chuckled lightly. _The kid spends a couple hours around Rogers and this is what happens_, he thought.

"It's an idea," Tony said simply but dismissed it in his head as an option since Banner had already done all the outreach he could.

"Then isn't the risk of still taking the dysprosium too much of a chance if it hasn't cured you yet?"

"Pete, the risk doesn't really matter sometimes," Tony said. "When it's this important, if the chance presents itself, you take it."

While that wasn't precisely what Tony was doing with his treatment, it was the entire philosophy behind relying on the dysprosium to keep him alive. Banner would argue that taking the super soldier formula was the risk to take, but Tony couldn't join that camp. He wouldn't be the cause of some world-ending mutation. They needed more data before entertaining that option. Failing that, he also couldn't hope of an 11th hour save to pull his neck away from the reaper's blade like he did when following his father's trail of breadcrumbs to discover the new element: Starkonium.

Peter sensed there was less light on the horizon than darkness where Tony's future was concerned. He looked paler than he had at Easter and weaker. There were dark circles under his eyes, deep and darker than they were then. He looked at his mentor and saw him resting against the back of the seat with his eyes fixed on an undetermined point ahead of him. The image struck Peter profoundly for the memory it raised of the final, deadly minutes on a battle field. Peter fought the prickle of tears under his lids.

"I hope everything goes well and you get better soon, Mr. Stark," he said in a light rasp as that pesky lump returned to his throat and all excitement about taking a flight on the Quinjet faded.

"You and me both, kid," Tony said and stole a look at his passenger. "I mean it, Pete. Don't worry so much. Look, there are plenty of things in the world you can affect and a hell of a lot you can't. Just figure out which is which and focus on where you can do something." Tony paused as the teen nodded. "For example, I noticed that you're graduating in like two weeks and there is something you could do related to that, but do you know what else I noticed? Pepper and I didn't get an invitation."

Peter blinked and opened his mouth to respond but realized he didn't know what to say. He hadn't sent out any invitations. Aunt May was the only one he knew would be going (if she could get the day off) so he saw no reason to send out notification to anyone else. He never thought to send one to Mr. Stark because he wasn't permitted to be anywhere other than his house (although his evening trip to the city just to have dinner did raise a few questions).

"Before I was dead," Tony continued, "I used to get invited to events all the time even when people knew I wasn't going to attend. That never stopped people from sending them to me. See, I ask about graduation because it's a logical lead in to my next question: Where are you going?"

"I'm going with you, I thought," Peter asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Tony groaned and exhaled with frustration as his anger lifted the fog slowly filtering into his tired mind.

"After graduation," he growled. "What school did you choose? I know you chose not to apply to MIT, and Pepper tells me that I'm supposed to say that's fine and it's your choice—even though it's absolutely not fine and really shouldn't have a been a choice at all. Kid, I swear if you tell me you chose Tulane because Harley talked you into it, you're walking to the jet."

Peter sat up straighter in his seat and shook his head vigorously.

"Oh, that, no," he said. "Well, um… About that, you see, I wasn't sure I should put in for anywhere just yet because… Well, I might have responsibilities with the Avengers… sort of. I mean, they've never called on me since you left, but if they need me, that could take up most of my time and…"

Tony twisted in his seat and leveled his dark and displeased gaze on the teen. His voice rose in volume and anger as he spoke.

"So you didn't choose anywhere?"

"Not exactly," Peter answered slinking back into his seat slightly with shame and apprehension for what he was about to say. "I mean, I didn't turn any down so much as… I never actually got accepted anywhere."

"How is that possible?" Tony demanded. "You got 1580 on your SATs a week after you got back from being dust for five years. If you'd taken them again this spring, I'm betting you'd have had a perfect 1600. You've got nearly a perfect GPA for your whole high school career. You have extracurricular activities and a letter saying you worked as an intern for my company when you were just a sophomore. Your teachers love you, and you have no disciplinary record. How did no school accept you?"

"Well… I didn't get around to applying anywhere," Peter confessed then bowed his head and clasped his hands in preparation for a lecture.

"Come again?" Tony nearly choked.

"I started a bunch of applications—MIT, Cal Tech, Harvard," he began. "That's in order of preference, sir. See, the thing is I just never finished them entirely. Are… are you mad?"

"Am I mad?" Tony repeated as he felt tightness in his chest that smacked of anxiety. "Peter, I swear I'm going to…"

"Everything is done for the applications, I just never, you know, hit send," Peter confessed. "Sir, I'm just waiting to have enough money in my account to pay the application fees, but I didn't have the extra money right now so…"

Tony ground the heels of his hands into his eyes then ran his shaking fingers through his hair while trying to ignore the tightness in his chest as his heart hammered in his ears.

"Hold on," he cut in. "You didn't apply because you couldn't afford a couple $75 application fees? Why didn't you say something?"

"Well, first off, as far as I knew, you were dead until like a month and a half ago," Peter started.

Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. It was an accurate excuse, but it expired the moment the kid was told he was spending the weekend with his un-dead hero. He shook his head and demanded a better answer than that under threat of going to his apartment at that moment and interrupting whatever Happy and May were doing so Peter could complete his applications.

"I didn't want to beg or rely on someone else to take care of me," Peter asserted. "I've done stuff that no one else my age has so I can take care of myself. I'll come up with the money on my own, Mr. Stark. Don't give it to me or somehow make it so I come into the money without doing anything for it. I've got a plan. I'll do a few odd jobs and tutor a couple kids in my apartment building who are going to summer school. That'll cover what I need. Once school is done, I'll have all day to work so it won't cut into any patrolling I do at night. I know this seems like I was lazy or just dropped the ball, but I didn't. Aunt May lost her job when she disappeared and her new job doesn't pay as well, but the apartment we're in now costs more. So, I've been helping with the bills when I can so she doesn't have to work so hard."

Tony's shoulders slumped, and he felt like he'd been gut punched. The one thing he'd never once worried about in his life was money. He never gave it a thought. It was why he was so comfortable paying for everything around him (whether among friends, with the Avengers, or cleaning up any mess that either of those associations with his caused).

"Let's ignore for a moment that you know more than a few people you could ask for help because you've already helped them out and have already earned it," he began.

"I didn't want to just be handed it," Peter insisted. "I mean, would you have asked for help?"

"When I need it, I do," Tony admitted

"Like when you met Harley?"

"Kind of," he said, "but not the point. What have I told you in the past about striving to be better than me? So, if money was an issue, why didn't you consider seeking a fee waiver for the application from the admissions offices?"

Peter answered that one handily. He figured those were for people who are really destitute but deserved a shot at getting into the school.

"I didn't want to get a pass when I could have done my part to come up with the money on my own," he said. "I just felt a little lost most of the school year and time got away from me, but now I'll..." He stopped speaking as he felt Tony's hand rest upon his shoulder. His voice trailed off as he promised he would get the money soon after graduation and submit his applications then. "I'll be fine, Mr. Stark. I don't have to start college in the fall. I can start next spring instead."

Tony sighed and looked pensively out the rain streaked window. The spring semester was too far away. The last thing he needed was knowing that the smartest kid he knew, a good kid who deserved a hell of a lot better than life had given him (and who had a mentor who was such a bad example in nearly every way that mattered), had his future delayed or possibly would have to take a different road entirely.

"Don't put your life on hold, and don't break my heart, Pete," Tony said as he gave the teen's shoulder a squeeze.

Peter swallowed hard and thumbed tears out of his eyes. He turned to stare at Tony with undiluted happiness and admiration that he could prompt such concern from the man. There was another feeling in his chest as well: rising dread. The way Mr. Stark spoke, it seemed like he wanted to put the world around him in order in case he wasn't going to be around to set it right in the future.

**oOoOo**

The sky was black as tar and the stars were fading as thick clouds rolled in. Thunder rumbled in the distance but the rain was still an hour off according to the latest weather reports. Ollie Reynolds absentmindedly itched the small metal disc affixed at the soft, sweet spot near the base of his skull. It was small, no bigger than a pencil eraser, but it did itch every time he felt it emit a small pulse like a static shock. His hat and his hair covered it well, but he was still aware it was there even if no one else was.

As he rubbed it again, he sat astride his revamped and restored 1937 Crocker v-twin motorcycle along a dark, two-lane road that no one traveled regularly day or night. He caressed the handlebars of his bike, on the road for the first time in decades, and smiled. What started in the fall as a rusting piece of junk from his uncle's barn was now appraised at more than $400,000. The engine growled as he revved it from its idling state.

Ollie was bothered distantly by his duties for the night. He didn't fully recall getting his orders, but he knew he had them just like Greg Benton did. They were to follow them without hesitation or question, but something bothered Ollie. He didn't want to shoot at Tony Stark. The guy had treated him fairly and helped him restore his bike. He'd even offered top dollar to purchase it from him when it was complete. Ollie called an automotive auction and gave them the specs for his bike on the pretense of looking to purchase one. The price they quoted him for a cost was more than $50,000 below what Tony offered to pay him.

But there were orders. Tony was going to be traveling down Route 102 within 30 minutes of Benton sending Ollie his message that the journey was underway. Ollie's job was to shoot out the tires and stop the car. Someone else would take over from there. Ollie just wasn't sure what was to happen next. He knew the next step involved his gun as well. He and Benton had identical orders. He vaguely recalled hearing Benton receive his, but the more Ollie tried to pinpoint what they were, the more his head hurt.

No, the job at hand had to be completed first. After that, he would get his next set of orders and all would be well. He let the bike idle again as he checked his watch.

The car would be passing by soon enough.

**oOoOo**

Greg Benton's watch beeped, which was odd because he normally wore a stealthier model. Having beeping electronics when he was in the shadows guarding a house in secret was a bad idea.

Then again, taking a man hiding from the world into the middle of New York City on a Friday night wasn't the wisest maneuver either, but what was he to do? He had orders.

He'd just completed his main task for the night. He'd conveyed the message to Tony that morning that his desire to go to the city had received the approval of the folks in charge at Camp Delta. It was a testament to the level of trust Tony had in Benton that he never called anyone at the base to verify that was accurate. He simply took Benton's word that he'd had a discussion with both Sam Wilson and Nick Fury and got their okay.

_For a smart guy who'd face so many adversaries, the guy was too trusting_, Benton thought as the prickle at the back of his neck intensified. He scratched at it only to feel a stronger pulse of energy course thought him and make him reach for his sidearm.

He wore a shoulder holster that evening to conceal the 10 mm semi-automatic pistol (an old design manufactured at the start of the century by none other than Stark Industries for the U.S. Military). He pulled the matte black grip from its cradle and walked toward the water. The river was a black snake slithering toward the harbor. The persistent rain gave it a rippled texture as he swung his legs gracefully over the concrete barrier acting as a seawall. There was just enough space for the balls of his feet while his heels hung out over the edge.

When the prickle came to his head again, he did as he was bidden to do in his orders. He put the pistol in his mouth and pulled back on the trigger. He was dead before his body splashed into the water unseen in the storm.

**oOoOo**

Rhodes made his way down the hall toward Banner's lab, the place where the man now worked, ate, and slept. He was on a mission. He took his setback in not properly calibrating his tests and producing an accurate model personally. Rhodes knew there were only two reasons why the gaff happened: the guy was tired and personally invested. Tony, the problematic Avenger who had never actually been more than a consultant but who was incapable of staying on the sidelines, meant a lot to Banner. They were both scientists. They understood the world in similar ways and understood things the rest of the team didn't. They were also both considered liabilities and dangers to the group (though for very different reasons), yet that pairing formed a bond between them.

Rhodes felt differently about Tony. He'd shouldered immense guilt about not being the one who grabbed the stones. Tony—regardless of where he was actually from—was his brother in every way except genetics. They'd played and fought together for years. They frustrated and disappointed each other the way only family can, and they meant the world to one another; if you cut one, the other would make whoever did that pay for it. Without Tony, Rhodes would never have been an Avenger. Without Tony, Rhodes would be trapped in a wheelchair. Finding out on Easter that there was nothing he could have done to spare Tony on the battlefield lifted a burden from Rhodes' shoulders and helped him get past the one final hurdle in accepting the man for who he was.

Now, after so many wasted months of friction and doubt, Rhodes was going to lose him once and for all unless Banner could pull a miracle off. Finding him slumped on a lab table, drooling as he snored lightly, was not a reassuring sight.

"Bruce," Rhodes nudged the man's chair to rouse him. "Hey, Big Green! Wake up."

"Huh," the multi-PhD shook his head and yawned from his chair. "Oh, hey. What time is it?"

"About 8 p.m.," he replied. "Stephen Strange has been trying to reach you. He wants to run something buy you. Something about an energy pulse. I didn't get the whole thing. Call him."

"Where are you going?" Banner rubbed his eyes and pawed his pockets in search of a phone.

"I gotta run to get Tony," he said.

"Is everything okay?" Banner asked. "It's kind of late for a visit."

"I'm running him home," he explained. "He took off for the city earlier."

"He did what?" Banner blinked. "He's made his presence public?"

Rhodes shook his head an explained what he considered a dangerous maneuver. He wasn't sure how Tony slipped passed his security perimeter without anyone at the base being alerted. Rhodes planned to call Sam once Tony was back in the house and secured for the night. They would need to debrief Tony on how he left without anyone knowing and impress upon him the idiocy of such a maneuver.

"If he wanted to sneak out, why didn't he care about sneaking back in?" Banner asked.

Rhodes sighed. He didn't want to put extra pressure or worry on the scientist, but from what he'd heard and seen in the last week, Tony wasn't thinking straight. His treatments were beginning to fail. The guy wouldn't admit it, but he seemed to know it was happening. He was hiding it from Pepper as best he could. Not telling Banner was either a move made out of fear or an effort to do as Rhodes hoped and not distract the guy looking for a cure from his work.

"I try not to get into Tony's head," he replied. "I just know he texted me about an hour ago that he thinks it would be better if he had a driver from the landing zone to the house. After I pay taxi for him, I've gotta drop the Parker kid back in New York since he's tagging along with Tony for the flight."

Banner shook his head. Reckless and Tony were two words that did go together nicely unfortunately. It just seemed odd that he would act to rashly given his current situation. He was not in the best of health and Pepper was in her last trimester. Neither of them needed the added stress of these kinds of antics.

"Yeah, I agree and I'll lecture him as I drive him home," Rhodes remarked. "He's lucky it'll be just me. Sam just found out that Tony gave his security team the night off without any notice to anyone here. That is so far beyond protocol that Sam's heading to Tony's now to check out the house and the perimeter himself. He recalled the day team so there's security at the place. Only smart thing Tony did all night was take one of his guards with him. His cell and Benton's have been together all evening until a few minutes ago when Tony let me know he was talking off in the Quinjet. Benton and Reynolds know better than to let Tony do something this reckless. Sam's gonna have their hides. I know Tony can be persuasive, but both of those guys know they aren't working for him."

Banner nodded and wished Rhodes well in his taxi duties. The scientist then activated his phone and saw multiple missed calls from Strange. He dialed the number as Rhodes waved and left the lab. The call to Strange was answered before the end of the first ring.

"Dr. Banner," Strange said urgently, "we need to talk, and you need to get Tony Stark to your lab."

"Why?"

"Let me rephrase," Strange said testily. "If you want Tony to live, you'll hear me out and get him to your lab immediately. Do you have a stasis pod or any type of device that can put a body in suspended animation? If not, I can try pulling him into the mirror dimension, but that's problematic because it's kind of at the heart of what's killing him."

"I don't understand," Banner said sharply. "You know what's causing his cellular degradation?"

"I do," Strange said. "I don't have any clue how much time he's got left, but I guarantee you it's a lot less than any of you realize. There's also the issue of the men who brought him here."

"You've figured out how he crossed the barrier between the parallel realities and breached it into ours?" he asked with his heart quickening.

"No," Strange answered. "This doesn't involve parallel realities or contiguous universes. Tony isn't from either of those."

"Then where is he from?" Banner gasped.

"Here," Strange snapped. "Now, get him to your lab. I'll be there in a few seconds. Oh, and you're going to want to get his wife there too if you want a shot at saving their unborn child."

**oOoOo**


	30. Chapter 30

**oOoOo**

Quinjets weren't precisely stealth in the scifi movie way. They did make noise; although, considering the size and power of the things, they made a hell of a lot less than one would expect. During takeoff and landing, they were roughly on par with the revving engine of a large SUV, which was what made them kind of invisible in that no one thought twice about hearing a noise like that. The repulsor technology that allowed them their impressive lift and thrust abilities did flatten grass and make the ground shake a bit, but only in the immediate 10 yard radius around the landing zone.

Ollie kept watch over the field from a distance with a set of infrared glasses that picked up the heat signature as the jet began its descent a few miles out. He fastened his helmet and took one final glance at the field as a car, one he ID'ed as belonging to Colonel Rhodes, arrived on scene. That was a snag he didn't initially plan on but had factored into his new strategy. Originally, the plan was for Tony to be alone on his drive home. Ollie wasn't sure why it was so important for Benton to remain in the city rather than return with Tony, but orders were orders.

When Benton phoned to say Tony made arrangements for Rhodes to drive him back from the jet that prompted one subtle shift in the plan, namely killing Rhodes. Ollie had no discernable feelings about doing that; although, he distantly thought it seemed odd to be so blasé about snuffing out one of his personal heroes. He was certain he was supposed to feel something about it, but something told him to push that thought out of his mind. So, he sighed and waited for the aerial vehicle to land so he could commence with his evening's mission.

**oOoOo**

Tony sat in the cockpit rubbing his temples as pain of the headache gripping his skull and the throbbing in his temples from Peter's rambling about the pointless insanity of his final days as a high school student assaulted him.

"So, it's like, everything is like crazy busy but for no good reason," the kid lamented for at least the fifth time since they took off. "Was it like that for you?"

"I'm never crazy busy anymore," Tony groaned. "I'm a dead guy who gets to play with pieces of robots in his garage while admiring my daughter's finger painting skills, particularly if they are on paper rather than the walls."

"No," Peter corrected him. "I mean, when you were going to graduate from high school. Was it like this, too? All rushing around and wasting time on stuff that seems unimportant?"

"When I was in high school everything was unimportant," Tony replied. "I was just biding my time until they'd let me go to college. The end of my senior year was no different than the start of my freshman year really."

"Why is that?" Peter asked. "Is it a boarding school thing? They let you have more freedom as a senior?"

"Freedom?" Tony scoffed. "I was 14. I had no freedom. I kind of still had a nanny."

Peter caught the laugh that rocketed up his chest and throat in his hand and tried in vain to smother it. He writhed as he tried to suppress his guffaw as he felt the man's stare bore into his skull.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "I forgot you were really young when you went to…." He paused and bit his lip to keep a straight face before continuing. "You really had a nanny when you were 14?"

"Jarvis was more like a warden who watched out for me," Tony grumbled. "He was actually my father's driver and butler, but he took care of me more than anyone else. The more I've learned about my father's past, I think there's a chance Jarvis was also SHIELD agent part-time. I've seen his name in a lot of old reports."

He didn't mention that the old reports were ones he read unofficially by tunneling into the SHIELD databases. He figured if they could retain his inherited formula for making super soldiers, he could repay the favor by doing some remote, unofficial reading of their history as well. Most of it was dull, but learning there was once a portal to another dimension up over the sky at his father's first mansion in California (and that the guy tried using it for improving his golf swing) was surprising and entertaining. Tony always thought of his father as a stick-in-the-mud, dull, all-work and no play makes Howard a rich sonofabitch sort of guy. The long list of ladies who were in the old man's dossier as brief flings was eye-opening as well. Tony chose not to ponder the possible genetic connection to that kind of behavior since it just gave him chest pains because of the implications for Morgan and her brother someday. He had to hope that Pepper would simply get the jump on those situations and keep the kids from giving in to the Stark side.

"Wow," Peter marveled. "Even before the Avengers or even Iron Man, your whole family led an interesting life, sir. So, was it weird going to college when you were the age of kids in junior high?"

"Why would it be weird?" Tony asked, looking at the dashboard readout to see they were approaching their landing zone. "I'd been going to school since I was five. Nine years of repetition breeds familiarity."

"Yeah, but it was college at the best engineering school on the planet," Peter blinked. "You were around people a lot older than you."

"Kind of was used to that, too," Tony replied. "I was 13 for most of my senior year of high school. I graduated just two weeks after turning 14."

"When everyone else got cars for gradation, you weren't even old enough for a learner's permit," Peter added.

Tony half shrugged and opted not to mention that he build his first car when he was 12 by using the engine he built when he was 10. He also didn't mention that he did drive it, at least on their estate on Long Island.

"Didn't bug me," Tony said. "I got a small plane, a two seater, for graduation. I did have a pilot's license by then. I actually flew it home solo after graduation since my parents were spending the weekend on Martha's Vineyard without me."

Peter's jaw dropped as he stared with a new wave of amazement. At 14, he was just learning to navigate the public bus system to get to school on his own, figure out where his classes were in a single building, and remember where his locker was.

"You weren't scared to live on a big, urban campus in a completely different city when you went to MIT?" he asked sheepishly.

"No," Tony shook his head. "Of course, I got shipped off to boarding school in Massachusetts by myself at age 6. Going to Boston was just shifting cities."

"So, you were on your own when you were at MIT just like when you were at Philips Andover Academy?" Peter asked. "Your parents stayed on Long Island?"

"That's where their house was," he replied, failing to see why it was an issued.

He never thought it odd until that moment. Just the thought of Morgan at such a young age leaving home to live in a dorm and to go to dinner in a cafeteria rather than coming each day after school appalled him. He wasn't sold on the schools in the region being nearly good enough for what he wanted for her, but the flipside of sending her away was simply repugnant.

"Did you ever get homesick?" Peter asked in a small voice.

He'd only been away from home once in his recollection—the time Mr. Stark took him to Germany for a few days in what Peter considered his tryout for the Avengers. He didn't think the whole five-years missing part counted since to him it only seemed like a matter of minutes. Now, with his future hurdling at him, he was nervous about leaving the life he knew in New York for…. wherever eventually accepted him, but if Mr. Stark could do it from such an early age, surely he could do it at age 18 (or 23, depending on how he was supposed to consider things since he returned).

"Home, for me, was a dorm or an apartment in another town from age 6 to 17," Tony replied. "I spent more time away from my parents' house than in it."

The word _sad_ rose in Peter's mind. He was an orphan, but he always had Aunt May. Mr. Stark had both parents for 17 years but seemed closer in his recollections to a family servant than his own father. None of the articles he read or programs Peter ever watched regarding the Stark family ever mentioned that detail. There was always the picture of Howard Stark standing over his son's shoulder as one of his creations (a motor, a circuit, a robot) was on display to amaze one and all. It struck Peter suddenly that there never was a family photo shown. He looked at his mentor with empathetic eyes and was glad the jet was dark enough to hide his sympathetic expression because he didn't think Mr. Stark would appreciate it. He seemed distracted and likely did not realize what he had just revealed about his personal life.

"Wow," Peter continued, forcing enthusiasm into his voice to keep the pity quiet. "That's wild, being on your own like that when you were so young. I'd have been a little scared and kind of lonely."

"You think it's a coincidence I built robots?" Tony huffed.

"Oh," he blinked. "In the shop at your house, did I see the one you built that won the big competition at MIT when you were a student?"

"Dum-E," Tony nodded.

Peter blushed and apologized for whatever mistake he'd just made. His face grew hotter still when his apology earned him a chuckle.

"No," Tony laughed. "Dum-E is the bot's name. I guess that detail never made it into the magazine articles. They probably only referred to him by his patent design number."

"D04051965," Peter added instantly and drew a hard stare. "I've read a lot about you over the years."

Tony rolled his eyes and opted not to call memorizing the US Patent Office number on his robot creepy. Stalker'ish was closer to accurate anyway, but then there was the whole worship thing the kid did that was entirely too innocent to be criminal.

"To me, he's Dum-E," Tony explained. "That's what he answers to when I speak. He's not programed to recognize anyone else's voice."

"You never upgraded it… uh, him?"

"Why?" Tony asked. "He's fine just as he is—exactly what I built him to be. When I had other ideas, I designed and built his brother: U. He's a bit more capable with a few less glitches; of course for that reason, he lacks some of Dum-E's charm. I was 14 and 15 when I built them."

He thought about his two most loyal assistants. They were in the shop at home, patiently waiting for jobs. He'd painstakingly restored both of them after salvaging them from the ocean after the Mandarin sent his mansion to the sea years earlier. He could have upgraded both of them then, but that would mean changing who they were, and he liked them as is.

"When I figured out how to improve something, I moved on to another design entirely," Tony continued. "I don't work on the same object over and over to perfect it. I learn what I can from the previous version, then I move on to a new one. I'd rather I create something new and better than revisit the past to fix it… generally."

He figured the idea of time travel hadn't been his in the first place. Until he read the report and found the schematics from the time travel GPS bracelets, he would have said it was impossible to do. He wondered somedays recently if given the option of a time jump to save himself from what ailed him currently if he would do it. He usually settled on the answer no. It felt like cheating and could open the wrong doors, could change things for the worse. There was no way to stop Thanos other than sacrificing himself. Then again, he wasn't the one who did that; the other Tony did. The only functioning theory for his existence still held that he was not from this reality, so what if he was able to go back to that moment when the other Tony Stark grabbed the Infinity Stones? What if he could swap places with that guy? He would die and the other one, the right one, would live. He could give the time bracelet with the coordinates to the new future to the other Tony just before dying. That guy could then step into the present, healthy and whole, to…

_Well, to find out that his wife slept with another guy and got pregnant with a kid that would be genetically his, for one_, he thought. _That might not go over well_.

Tony knew himself well enough to know there would be some issues with that at the start, but he liked kids (even those that weren't his). The other him could get over it, and he'd live. That was the big thing. Morgan would have her father. Her brother would endear himself to that Tony (after all, the kid was Pepper's and there was nothing about Pepper Potts that any Tony Stark wouldn't love). The scenario would also give Pepper her actual husband back. Rhodey would have his real friend back, the one who he apparently told about doing the dirty interstellar tango with Captain Carol, the seductive sassy-haired alien.

But there was a paradox.

That Tony shouldn't be able to jump into a future that wasn't his. Still, 2014 Thanos had done precisely that. Granted, he got killed, but there wasn't enough evidence to demonstrate his death was predetermined merely due to the jump into a time when he was already dead.

Tony rubbed his temples as his head began to throb in earnest. He could barely hear Peter talking over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"So," the kid continued on the track of the conversation Tony had dropped as he wandered through his own thoughts, "it's like how you only worked with robots as assistants for a long time. Now, you've got Harley, helping you, so does that mean that you're done with…?"

"Harley's not a robot," Tony cut in testily. "I'm saying I replace outdated technology, kid. People are not technology. You pick up new ones along the way if you're lucky, but when you lose someone, that's it. They're lost."

"You weren't," Peter pointed out.

"I'm special," Tony replied instantly, earning himself a grin as the jet automatically vectored west as it slowed. "But what have I told you about using me as an example? Are you smirking? You're supposed to look sullen. What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Peter smirked. "Well, actually… I mean… I'm beginning to understand what Harley told me about you and how you are when it seems like you're angry versus when you're actually just being sarcastic."

"Okay," Tony scoffed. "I'm forbidding you to speak to Harley. Both of you need supervision. He can't stay in school; you can't get into one."

Peter hung his head and groaned as he felt the jet begin its descent through foggy air.

"I'm going to get the applications done soon, sir," he vowed.

"Not soon, tonight," Tony huffed as he flipped various switches that turned on landing lights as the jet started to hover more than fly and began sinking through the wispy bank of clouds surrounding them. "What exactly did Harley tell you about me?"

"Just that he helped you years ago and that you've stayed in touch," Peter replied. "He also told me that I shouldn't worry when you seem like you're mad about little things since most of the time you're not really mad so much as just stressed out."

Tony shook his head an made a mental note to lecture Harley about debunking myths that he was a tyrant to work for—he'd spent a long time cultivating that image so that nearly no one ever asked to help him do anything when he was in research and development mode.

"Peter, mad at Harley is a whole different world than mad at you," he said honestly. "The biggest danger facing him is academic probation. But you?"

"I know," Peter slouched and hung his head. "Someone could get hurt."

"Someone could die," Tony corrected him. "That someone could be you. Believe me, if I'm mad at you, I've got a reason and it's directly related to one of those two things. Got it? Harley gets to be nearly normal. You don't. You're like me. Guys like us, we don't get normal."

Peter looked up and felt his eyes prickle for reasons other than sorrowful tears. A smile traced on his lips.

"Thank you, sir," he said reverently.

"Why are you thanking me?" Tony asked. "I just scolded you—no jokes—that was the real deal."

"I know," he nodded. "And what you said, telling me I'm like you, is the best compliment anyone's ever given me. I know you don't think of that as a good thing, but it's honestly the greatest thing I've ever been told."

Tony groaned and shook his head as the ground came into view under the floodlights at the bottom of the jet. At the edge of the landing field, a car waited with headlights on and a solo figure standing in front of them. Tony looked to his passenger to see glee etched in his young face.

"Pepper's right," he said heaving himself wearily from his seat and starting toward the exit. "We need therapy."

**oOoOo**

Banner was staring with his jaw hanging loose as Strange finished his lengthy explanation of what he believed transpired to bring Tony to them following his funeral. Banner remained silent as the master of the mystical arts finished. He blinked a few times and scrunched his brow.

"Say that again," he remarked.

"No," Strange scoffed. "I'm going to have to explain it a few more times to anyone else who needs to know so you don't get a repeat of the performance as a solo audience member. Now, where is he?"

"Tony?" Banner asked. "Rhodes went to get him. They should be here in half an hour. Are you sure about this?"

Strange sighed. He wasn't honestly sure of much at that moment other than the distinct possibility that he probably wasn't wrong. It was hardly a ringing endorsement of his theory, but he still put more stock in it than he did the previous concept that Tony was from another place. Everything from his off-kilter electromagnetic signature to his precise memory loss were all strong evidence in favor of his theory. The problem was, there was no way to prove it. The "cure" he was postulating was also equally questionable.

"I know this is a lot to accept without a lot of time for contemplation or any chance for testing," Strange continued.

"I'm sending a message to Director Fury," Banner replied as he put his fingers on his keyboard. "If he signs off on it, I'll call Scott Lang."

"If Fury doesn't sign off?" Strange wondered.

"Then I'll still call Lang," Banner shrugged. "I've got no shot of curing Tony with what I've got here. He was right that there's no way to test for all the possible permutations the altered RNA might cause due a lifetime of environmental factors I can't even begin to catalog—at least, no way to do it in time to make this formula work for him. To make the Erskine formula work the way I want, I'd have to start with a subject who's a blank slate, which is where I think Hydra went wrong with their Super Soldier program. All those guys had emotional, medical, and environmental histories they didn't compensate for and tried to inoculate and train through to gain control. It was too complex. They were ticking time bombs. "

The words came out dejected and despondent, but Strange began to smile as the words 'blank slate' and 'time bomb' triggered an idea. Both were better solutions to the problems the Stark family faced than Strange had arrived with. There were obviously a lot of possible pitfalls, but if the blank slate was all that was needed to take most of the foreseeable problems off the table, then there was no way to discount his theory as a possible solution. The catch was, of course, (just like his other plan) getting everyone to agree that these were viable solutions.

"While we wait for Tony, show me everything you've got on this formula," Strange said.

**oOoOo**

Tony left Peter at the Quinjet to await his flight home. He planned to tell Rhodes he had an extra duty for the evening once they were halfway to the lake house; that way, Rhodes couldn't force a change in plans and merely run back, grab the kid, and make him stay the night rather than fly him home. Tony had given Peter his word he'd be home for curfew, and he meant to keep it (by making Rhodes see that it got done).

However, rather than turn west onto Route 102 toward the lake, Rhodes turned east onto Route 47.

"I thought I was the one with the memory loss," Tony remarked. "House is the other way, Rhodey."

"You're not going back there tonight," Rhodes said. "Stephen Strange showed up."

"That is never a good thing," Tony moaned.

"Actually, the last time it happened, it was a good thing," Rhodes disagreed while recalling multiple sling portals opening to bring their army onto the field to fight Thanos. "He's been working on the riddle that's you. He has some ideas, and he thinks they may hold the key to fixing you."

"By fixing do you mean the whole slowing dying thing, or am I being neutered?" Tony asked. "Whatever Pepper said recently, you can't take that seriously. She's tired and that makes her a little cranky and a touch crazy."

Rhodes huffed and asked him to be serious. He knew Tony's M.O. The worse the jokes got, the more scared he was. Starting out with a neutering joke followed by a cranky, pregnant wife crack was around a level 7 out of 10 on the fear scale.

"I don't know exactly what Strange figured out, but Bruce was excited," he reported as he began to squint from the bright light reflecting in his rearview mirror from an approaching motorcycle.

"Bruce and excited don't go together," Tony shook his head. "Bruce and brooding. Bruce and anxiety. Bruce and melancholy. Those are all perfect matches. Excitement is… even being green, excitement isn't exactly his thing."

"Well, whatever it is, he's feeling a lot of it," Rhodes remarked as the light grew bigger and brighter as he commented on it. "Dude, enough with the brights already. Just go around me."

As if taking the command, the bike pulled into the oncoming lane then sped up. It pulled even with the car then hung there for a few seconds.

Only years of survival reflexes could account for the instantaneous reactions that occurred in the following split seconds. Rhodes yanked the wheel to the side to swerve out of the parallel line with the bike. Tony (uselessly) raised his palms as though he could repel what he saw through the driver's side window.

"What the hell?" he shouted. "Rhodey!"

As the words left his lips, the glass to driver's side window shattered, exploding into hundreds of pieces from the bullet that sailed through it. That shot was followed by several more as the car careened off the road and into a thicket of trees. The airbags deployed as the engine continued to race despite there being nowhere for the car to go as it kissed a mighty tree trunk. The horn blared as Rhodes slumped across the wheel. Dazed by the impact, Tony groped to the side for his friend but hissed in pain as a bolt of lightning shot up his arm. He called to Rhodes several times but knew if the man was not awakened by the screaming horn that a simple voice would not help matters.

Forcing his eyes to remain open was a task. The cloud of nitrogen and carbon dioxide released from the airbag bonded with the air and created sodium hydroxide, an alkaline substance that burned when it touched skin and eyes. Despite the burning sting, Tony managed to unbuckle his seatbelt with his one good arm then open his door. He tumbled to the ground intent on somehow getting to the other side of the car, pulling the fuses to stop the blaring horn, and turn off the roaring engine. He'd then find Rhodes' phone and summon help.

_Peter_, he thought. _I'll call Pete. He's close. The kid can call Sam or Banner_.

He clawed his way along the exterior of the car using it for balance. He felt as much as he tasted blood coursing down his face. Whether it was a bleeding episode or a legitimate injury from the accident didn't matter. It was blood. He wasn't supposed to lose any. This was turning out to be a bad night.

_Someone shot at us_, his mind distantly recalled. _That guy might still be around and have more bullets. This is a bad night not to have any armor._

His mind was on the ramifications of that rather than on the sound of the bike turning around and speeding back toward them. Tony's mind did register another vehicle drawing to a stop at the edge of the road. For a split second, he thought it might be the help they needed.

Then he saw the man on the bike leave the motorcycle and walk to the other vehicle, a van. Tony stumbled before he got to the handle Rhodes's door. He grabbed the side mirror to remain standing as he saw the motorcyclist open the side door of the van. Although it was an ominous sign, what interested Tony the most were the lines of the motorcycle he saw.

_Just like Dad's old Crocker_, he thought fleetingly as an overwhelming feeling of lightheadedness consumed him. His knees buckled and the ground rushed toward him at an alarming pace.

**oOoOo**

Peter sat in the cockpit (Mr. Stark didn't say he couldn't) and swiveled side-to-side in the big chair. It was actually comfortable. The buttons and computer screens around him were tempting, but he resisted. Any monkeying he did with it, Colonel Rhodes would need to adjust. He was Mr. Stark's best friend. He'd tell his friend if he had to do extra work beyond bringing Peter home. Mr. Stark looked too tired for Peter to waste his energy with a lecture.

So he sat. He swiveled. He hummed and whistled as the minutes ticked by. He pulled out his phone and saw it was more than 30 minutes since Mr. Stark departed. He had said it was just a 10 minute drive to his house. That meant Colonel Rhodes should be back.

Peter peered out the rain spattered windows but saw nothing but inky darkness. He scrolled through his contacts to the one labeled "Morgan." He thought it unlikely the little girl had her own cellphone and figured putting her name on the contact was just an easy, covert way to put Mr. Stark's contact into Peter's phone without arousing suspicion.

He dialed the number, thinking it unlikely Mr. Stark was already asleep. He had said he was going to call his wife once he was home. The worst Peter would end up doing is interrupting that call—and while he didn't want to do that, he also did want an estimate for when he would get home. He had a little (probably unfounded) fear that Colonel Rhodes had forgotten him.

When the call went instantly to voicemail, Peter grew concerned. It was possible that Mr. Stark was on the phone, but the incoming call would flash and let him know Peter was calling. Being ignored one time was believable. After three times, it was worrisome. Mr. Stark was a worrier; three calls in rapid succession from Peter should have set off alarms.

But there was no answer to his calls.

Peter wasn't sure what to do next until the obvious solution hit him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his mask and slipped it over his face.

"Uh, Karen?" he asked, hoping she was able to function while in the jet with all its competing technology.

"Yes, Peter," she responded instantly.

"Thank god, I need assistance," he said. "I'm trying to find Mr. Stark…. I mean, I'm trying to locate a phone. It's the one in my contacts listed as Morgan. Can you pinpoint it for me?"

"I find no active devices assigned that number," Karen replied.

"None?" he questioned. "That can't be. He must have it turned off, but why would he do that? He was going to talk to Mrs. Stark. Um, Karen, can you find a number for me that I don't know but that I know is in Mr. Stark's computer… I mean, a number that FRIDAY surely knows. Can you access some information from her? If you can, the number I need is for Colonel James Rhodes. Maybe it's under War Machine or Iron Patriot."

A few seconds later after the interface between the two systems occurred, his AI returned with her answer.

"Contact identified for Rhodey," she offered helpfully.

"Right, right," Peter nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. "Rhodey, that's what Mr. Stark calls him. Okay, can you call that number?"

"Dialing now."

He listened as it rang over and over with no response. Eventually, the voicemail picked up. Peter asked Karen to call two more times, just to be certain, but received the same lack of response.

"Karen, can you give me a location of that phone?" Peter requested with a tremor in his voice.

"Would you like coordinates?" she asked.

"I'd rather see it on the screens here in the jet if you can do that," he answered.

"I can't access the operating system in your current location," Karen replied. "I need you to grant me that access."

"You can't just break in?"

"The protocols show that you should have access, however, for me to interface, you need to authorize it by gaining access then transferring authorization to me," she added helpfully.

Peter stared at the dashboard. It was hardly intuitive (at least for a high school senior who'd never been in a cockpit before). He began pushing buttons, which did nothing more than make things light up, beep angrily, then shut off. Eventually, he put his palm on the scanner near the steering yokes and heard the operation system's interface.

"Voice and passcode authorization required," it demanded.

"Wow, Mr. Stark likes the voices of stern women," Peter observed as the system prompted him to give his authorization.

"Uh, okay, well, what's my access code, Karen?" he asked.

"That is not stored in my memory," she replied.

"Okay," he sighed and started from the top. "Um, Peter Parker."

"Access denied."

"Um, Avengers?

"Access denied."

"Youngest Avenger?"

"Access denied."

He went through a series of variations in that vein from baby avenger, to tiny avenger, to newest avenger, to junior avenger. He then branched off into the various versions of Spider-Man to include Baby Spider, Spider-Boy, Spiderling, Itsy Bitsy Spider (and he was glad that one didn't work). His frustration grew exponentially alongside his worry.

"Queens!" he shouted angrily at the system.

"Access denied."

"Damnit it, Mr. Stark," Peter barked.

"Access denied.

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled. "That wasn't a guess. That was just me losing my patience. It's gotta be something only he'd think of but that I would know. Okay. How about Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman?"

"Access denied."

He exhaled fully and tugged on his hair as he reached his wits end and scraped the last possibility that he could find in his memory.

"Underoos."

"Access granted," the computer reported. "Welcome, Underoos."

"Oh thank god," he slumped in the seat. "I gotta get Mr. Stark to change that. Okay, um, Karen, can you get in now and show me where Colonel Rhodes is?"

A map flashed on the screen that marked both the location of the Quinjet and the location of Colonel Rhodes. For a moment, Peter relaxed. The car was barely two miles away, but the longer he looked the more he realized things. The car was not moving in his direction. In fact, the car was not moving at all. Worse still, the car was not actually on the road.

"Oh, god," he stood up as his heart began to race. "It's off the road. Karen! Something's happened to Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes. I think they need help. What do I do?"

"Summon help," she suggested.

"Right, but who?" he shouted. "No one other than Mr. Stark, me, and Mr. Stark's security guard knew Colonel Rhodes would be traveling with Mr. Stark tonight. I didn't see a single car on the road this whole time. I've got a bad feeling this isn't just a regular car accident. What if… Mr. Stark has been in hiding all this time and tonight's he first time he left. What if someone found out and… This is why he's been in hiding. Someone was looking for him. That's gotta be it. That means someone close to him did this. Oh god. The only ones who knew he was alive were the Avengers. Did one of them do this?"

"I do not know," Karen replied without emotion. "Would you like me to contact local emergency services?"

Without a better idea, Peter granted permission for her to summon the help of the local first responders. Peter didn't know what they would think to arrive at a car accident and find the hero War Machine sitting beside the reportedly dead Iron Man.

_Mr. Stark is going to kill me_, Peter thought but decided getting help in case there were serious injuries was best. _He can be mad at me if he's alive… oh god. What if he's dead?_

Panic spiked in Peter's chest as he decided he needed to go to the scene himself. That way, if they were both okay, Peter could warn them the police and an ambulance were on the way. As he prepared to leave the jet, Karen reported back moments later that police and an ambulance were on their way. She also reminded Peter of his fear regarding the Avengers being compromised. Walking into the scene could simply play into the hands of whomever was responsible. Peter, at least for the moment, was free from any possible plot and might be the only hope Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had of getting actual help.

_I've got follow up on this somehow_, he told himself anxiously. _There's nothing I could do for anyone in the car. The ambulance will be there soon. The paramedics will have the necessary emergency equipment to render assistance._

"I should call someone," his voice cracked. "But this is Mr. Stark. If anything's happened to him… I was supposed to be his copilot. I know that meant just during the flight but… Karen, I have to know if he's okay. Can you listen into what the police or EMT's are saying when they get there?"

"I can report to you any radio traffic made by emergency services," she offered.

Peter nodded gratefully though she could not see the action. He felt very low at that moment. He thought of himself as an Avenger; he set his heart on being one as soon as he discovered his remarkable abilities. That dream seemed within reach when Mr. Stark discovered him. Peter was honored to be made an Avenger on the seemingly suicidal mission to Titan and was proud to have fought side-by-side with them against Thanos. Now, he was being called upon to act alone, but his first instinct was to overlook the problem and only pay attention to what mattered to him personally.

"I'm a terrible Avenger," he sighed and scolded himself then looked at the many lights on the cockpit dashboard.

If someone had compromised the Avengers, then Peter needed help from outside that organization but also someone who knew them well enough to actually help. This was not a situation where he could call Ned to be his guy in the chair. He forced himself to be calm and formulate a plan. The last time he was in a desperate situation like this he was with Mr. Stark. What had Mr. Stark done?

"He got into an argument with Dr. Strange," Peter said. "Then we wound up in a standoff with Peter Quill and his crew. After that, we faced off against Thanos… and lost."

Peter sat heavily in the swiveling seat and buried his face in his hands.

"None of this is helpful," he groaned.

_Or was it_, a little voice at the back of his head wondered.

"Pull a team together," he told himself as the basic elements of what they did on the spaceship and later on Titan occurred to him. "Have a plan. Okay, I need a team. When Dr. Strange was still tied up by that skinny, bad alien, the team was just me and Mr. Stark. Two is a team. It's a small team, but small is better than none. So, I need a second person. Karen, who can be my second?"

"Your second what?" she asked. "Your second grade teacher was Mr. Michael Fountaine, who is now Mrs. Marissa Ortega after a successful gender reassignment surgery eight years ago followed by marriage six years ago."

"Really?" Peter wondered as he lifted his eyebrows. "Okay, that's great, but it's not the answer I needed. I need someone to help me and be the second person on my team."

He exhaled as a face popped in his head along with a voice telling him to call if ever he needed help of any kind. Peter thumbed his contacts on his phone and found the name he needed, taken from a business card. He dialed and prayed it would be answered. When it was, relief swooped through his stomach and made his knees briefly weak.

"Yeah, it's Peter Parker," his voice cracked. "I know it's late, but I need your help. This might be a matter of life and death, Captain Rogers."

**oOoOo**


	31. Chapter 31

**oOoOo**

Peter began pacing.

He'd lost track of the time despite the fact he kept looking at his phone. His hands quivered, and his heart hammered. His hyper-acute senses were doing so much more than tingling. They were zapping him like electric shocks much stronger than static electricity. The longer the pulses happened the more he became convinced something was horribly wrong.

After what seemed like an hour (and when he was on the verge of bolting from the jet to go to the crash site), Karen began speaking again.

"Emergency medical personnel on scene," she announced.

"Finally!" Peter shouted. "They took forever."

"Response time was five minutes, 21 seconds," Karen replied.

"Oh, that's all?" Peter muttered. "What did they find?"

"One adult male, African-American with probable head and neck trauma," Karen reported. "Non-responsive. Pupils reactive. Heart rate elevated. Breathing labored but regular."

"Colonel Rhodes," Peter nodded. "Oh, god. Is he dying? Karen, what else are they saying?"

She reported the crew was radioing to the hospital for X-rays and a CT scan. She then explained the most likely diagnosis for the tests being ordered were for broken bones and a head injury. Peter winced and hoped for the best. Colonel Rhodes had already suffered a broken back after the events in Germany years earlier. A possible broken neck or fractured skull was simply unfair to him. Peter was shuddering on the man's behalf when Karen made an additional report.

"Gunshot wound, upper right arm, through and through," Karen said.

"He was shot?!" Peter yelped. "That's why they crashed. Someone attacked them? What about Mr. Stark? Was he shot, too? What are they saying about him?"

"There are no additional casualties," Karen replied.

"What?" his voice squeaked. "Does that mean he's okay? He can't be fine. They crashed. He didn't call for help. He didn't answer when I called him. That means he wasn't aware or conscious. Karen, you have to tell them that no matter what he says, he's not fine. He should see a doctor."

"The paramedics report only one person in the car," she assured him.

"Only one?" Peter gasped. "How is that possible? Mr. Stark got in the car. They're just a two miles away. There wasn't time to… Did he get out? What if he was dazed and got out of the car? They won't know to look for him. I have to go look for him."

His legs were coiled springs as he leaped toward the hatch. That's as far as he got. He faced the hatch and stopped.

"Um, Karen?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"How do I open the door?" he asked as he touched the hand scanner by the door but nothing happened.

"You locked the jet," she replied. "It can only be opened by an authorized palm scan or core level override."

Peter nodded and put his palm on the scanner but received a flashing red light refusing to recognize him. He tried several times, used his code clearance, but nothing worked.

"Karen, it doesn't recognize my hand," he said. "What kind of plane lets you fly it and use the cockpit systems but doesn't let you leave?"

"This one," she reported. "You initiated an emergency lockdown after your telephone call to Steve Rogers. Lockdown protocol requires higher permissions to override it. You are not currently authorized with those permissions."

"Can you grant me that authorization?" he asked urgently.

"I cannot," she answered.

"Is there any other way you can override it?"

"I cannot," she answered again.

"But I need to get out of here!" he shouted and kicked the door then winced at the pain in his toe. "Mr. Stark is out there somewhere. He could be hurt, and no one knows to look for him. Please, just tell me how to get out of here!"

"You could use a plasma torch," she offered, "if you have one."

"Is there one in my suit that I don't know about?" he asked desperately.

"There is not," she replied unhelpfully.

Peter clawed at his hair then jumped backward in fright as there was pounding on the outside of the door.

"Peter Parker?" a stern male voice called out. "Hey, kid, you in there?"

"Uh, who is it?" he asked then whispered. "Karen, can you see outside with a camera on the jet or something to tell me who's…"

"Spider-Dude, it's Sam Wilson!" a mildly familiar voice shouted from the outside. "Open the door!"

Peter rankled at first upon hearing Spider-Dude but shrugged it off because Dude was better than Boy. He then explained loudly to Sam through the hull his problem with obeying the command. After a few minutes that reminded Sam of a Three Stooges clip, he talked Peter through finding the manual lever for the emergency release that unlocked the hatch. Peter sprang from the jet and started on foot across the landing field but was stopped as Sam shouted him to a halt.

"Tony lock you up in there to keep you from running away?" Sam asked.

"What?" Peter squawked. "No. I was waiting for Colonel Rhodes. Captain Rogers told me how to lock it up. Now, we've gotta go fine Mr. Stark. Hurry."

He tried to pull away again but Sam reached for his arm and latched on tight. Peter knew he could break free with ease even without the many tricks in his suit Karen was offering (eagerly) to unleash, but he held back due to the firmness in Sam's voice.

"Kid, you need to calm down and stay with me," he ordered.

"But there's been an accident," Peter pleaded. "Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes were in a car and…"

"And someone shot at them," Sam finished his sentence. "I know. We're monitoring the situation from the base. Now, you've gotta come with me."

"No, I need to find Mr. Stark," Peter said. "He wasn't in the car when the ambulance arrived, but he was in the car when they left here. Don't you understand? He got out of the car. He could be hurt. I have to help him."

"He might be hurt, but he's not there—I can guarantee that," Sam assured him. "This wasn't a random accident. This was a kidnapping."

"Kidnapping?" the breath rushed from Peter's lungs in the cooling night air. "Someone took him? Who?"

"Whoever shot at Rhodes' car," Sam replied. "Come with me. We're done here."

"No," Peter shook his head. "I'm not leaving without Mr. Stark. I came with him tonight so his wife wouldn't worry, and now he's missing. I have to find him. I'm not going home so that I'm out of your way."

"Hey, Junior," Sam snapped, "you're right. You're not going home. We're putting a team together to deal with this mess, and you're on it, okay? I'm low on help, and Cap tells me you're someone I can rely on. Now, I know you've got skills. I've seen 'em, but right now I need you to prove to me that you can get your head on straight and do what I say."

**oOoOo**

Sam went back to the jet and activated the retroreflective panels rendering the Quinjet invisible. He locked down once again then climbed into his vehicle. He and Peter drove away in the darkness. They passed the accident site to see a police cruiser and a tow truck removing Rhodes' car. The ambulance was long gone, and the interest at the scene seemed minimal. Peter pulled off his mask and sat with a stony expression beside Sam the entire 15 miles to the base. He eyed the compound without comment and followed Sam into a concrete bunker that looked more like a place for growing Legionnaire's disease than one to house superheroes who had saved the universe.

"Yeah, I know," Sam read Peter's flat gaze. "We had better digs when Tony was on the team."

They walked past what looked like a communication hub with banks of computers and immense wall monitors. There was minimal activity in the room, which angered Peter. If there was a team coming together to find Mr. Stark, where was everyone? Where was the energy and the urgency? Those people looked like they were on dinner break.

They continued down a hall and were beckoned forward by Wanda Maximoff. Her auburn hair was damp and hanging limp to her shoulders. Her expression was grave and cold as she signaled for Sam to follow her. Peter kept close on his heels as they entered what looked like a makeshift ER with several beds and curtains that could be drawn around them. She pointed at a man wearing combat fatigues and a vacant expression. He lay tense in a bed with his arms and legs bound to the side railings.

"Ollie?" Sam stepped forward and greeted him. "What happened to him?"

"He tried to run me off the road then he tried to have a bullet for a snack," Wanda said contemptuously. "He is one of your guards from Tony's house, yes?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "He say anything?"

"_I'm following orders_," she quoted. "I will ask in the interest of thoroughness: Did you give him orders to run me off the road, attempt suicide if captured, or to attack Rhodes and Stark?"

"That's a solid no," Sam replied. "You think Ollie was involved?"

"He was on a motorcycle leaving the area where the attacked occurred," she explained. "Rhodes woke up during transport and was rambling to the paramedics about someone on a motorcycle shooting at him."

Sam tossed her a steely look then took three long strides into the hallway and yanked open a door to a smaller room that held a hospital bed and a single chair drawn up beside it. Both were empty.

"Understandable but irrelevant," Wanda said as Sam steamed back into the room. "Bucky had been with me for an hour, eating in the cafeteria, when I was sent to the scene. He is not involved."

"Good," Sam relaxed, glad to hear the guy had an alibi.

Peter stood in the doorway with his arms folded, lost as to what they were discussing while growing increasingly angry at their lack of focus on the problem at hand.

"So, what's with him?" Sam asked pivoting back to Ollie Reynolds, who lay perfectly still and acted as though he was in a trance. "You put the magic whammy on him?"

"I bound him and brought him in unharmed," Wanda replied. "Even before that, he did not seem interested in talking. He also did not seem eager to take his life but also seemed unable to resist the urge to put the gun in his mouth. He kept muttering about orders. There is a mechanical implant in his head. Dr. Banner looked at it, but this technology is not his specialty. It requires advanced engineering knowledge."

_Great_, Sam thought as he gnashed his teeth. _It figures. In order to find Tony, we need Tony_.

Peter read the expression on his face and understood they were at an impasse that was critical. He was not in any position to help with the catatonic man or the mechanical device that had stumped Dr. Banner's seven PhD's. Peter himself could do a lot of things, but the kind of engineering that could control someone's mind was beyond him. His closest brush with that level of sophistication in technology was his visit to Mr. Stark's shop to see his robots.

"Harley!" Peter shouted.

"Now you want a motorcycle?" Sam asked.

"No, Harley… something or other," Peter offered. "He's Mr. Stark's intern. He's been working with Mr. Stark on his robots and whatever else he's been doing. He might know something about this… whatever thing that the device is."

"His intern?" Sam scoffed. "We've got enough kids on the team, thanks."

"I'm not a kid, and Harley's got more experience with nano technology than anyone else in this room," Peter asserted. "Mr. Stark trusts him enough to work with him in his shop. He's not going to let just anyone do that."

Sam eyed him briefly then turned to Wanda, who tilted her head then shrugged. Sam nodded at her and she left the room. Sam tossed Peter a cold look then walked out. Peter exhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair again as the agitated feeling that he kept swallowing rippled through him yet again. Standing around was not the way to find Mr. Stark. Sam might say he was putting together a team, but all he seemed to be doing was stalling. Peter clenched his jaw and kicked the chair near the bed of the man Wanda captured. The seat slid rapidly across the room and crashed to the concrete wall, crumpling into more of a paperclip shape from the impact.

"Rough day at work?" a voice to his left croaked.

Peter spun around to see the haggard and drawn face of Sargent Barnes. He wore loose fitting fatigues and several days' worth of stubble. His hair was shorter and dusky circles ringed his eyes. He was not wearing his metal arm.

"Why are you here?" Peter asked, folding his arms as he took a step backward.

Mr. Stark never did tell him precisely why he didn't want Peter working with or around Sargent Barnes. He was simply firm and adamant that Peter keep his distance. Peter didn't understand why, but he recognized something in Mr. Stark's eyes when said it. It was the same look Aunt May got when Peter was unexpectedly late coming home without telling her: fear.

"I'm a guest at this lovely hotel," Bucky said as he shuffled forward.

"Hotel?" Peter asked taking another step backward.

"I was never good at sarcasm," Bucky replied. "I know it when I hear it, but I'm too blunt to speak it fluently. Why are you here, kid?"

"Um," Peter paused, unsure what if anything he should say. "Working."

Bucky's mouth quirked up on the side giving him a half-grin.

"Sorry I wasn't in touch recently," he continued as he moved slowly. "Had a little trouble when I went out of town. I'm guessing someone told you that you didn't need to keep watching that building. If no one did, I'm sorry I wasted your time. I followed one of the guys you were watching out of town. He's not a problem anymore."

Peter swallowed and nodded as he could not find his voice. He wasn't sure whether he felt fear toward the man or was simply feeling his continuing anxiety over his missing mentor.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm mending," Bucky replied. "I got shot."

"Shot?"

"One of the hazards of the job," Bucky offered. "Got lucky. One of Nick Fury's guys saved my neck. A couple more days and I'll be… whatever I was before." Peter stared at him so Bucky smiled back. "Can't say good as new, can I?"

Bullets weren't supposed to hurt enhanced people. They were supposed to be faster than the bullets or resilient to their penetration. Peter wasn't sure precisely what all of Sargent Barnes's special talents were, but he was certainly strong than an average man, possessed commando skills, and was in really good, youthful shape for someone who should look a lot more like Captain Rogers did.

"Shot how?" Peter asked. "You're a super soldier."

"Titles don't stop bullets," Bucky smirked. "Cut me some slack. It was a blitz attack I didn't see coming."

_Blitz attack_.

The words rang in Peter's head. It was the same way Sam described the ambush on Colonel Rhodes' car. Two similar attacks on two people associated with the Avengers seemed like too much of a coincidence to be one of those.

"Who shot you?" Peter asked.

Bucky considered his answer. The kid was at the base and claimed he was working. He fought in the battle against Thanos, and he'd been with Tony's team in Germany years earlier. It stood to reason, despite his age, that he was somehow with the Avengers. He'd also proven himself eager and trustworthy when watching Mason Osborne.

"I don't know his name," Bucky admitted. "I only saw his silver suit before I passed out. He's the guy I was watching, the guy I thought Osborne could lead me to."

"Why did you want to find him?" Peter asked.

"I wanted to stop," Bucky sighed with defeat. "I thought he was going to kidnap Tony Stark's kid or his widow."

"Wife," Peter corrected absentmindedly.

"Not anymore," Bucky shook his head.

"Don't say that!" Peter shouted and pointed angrily at the man. "He's not dead. He's not. He's just missing!"

It was Bucky's turn to step back. The outburst stunned him. He held up his one arm (and wished he hadn't taken off the other one while he slept earlier). As he motioned for the kid to calm down, Wanda, raced into the room. She stood between them, for which Bucky was glad. He'd seen the kid crush a metal chair by just kicking it. Without his arm to help defend himself, Bucky felt a little naked.

"What is going on?" she asked.

Peter shook with fear and fury as his cheeks flushed red. He pointed a shaking finger at Bucky.

"He said Mr. Stark is dead," Peter shouted angrily. "He's not! We're going to find him!"

"Peter," she said soothingly, "be calm. We are doing everything we can. Attacking each other will not help us find Tony."

"Help find him?" Bucky asked. "What am I missing?"

Wanda offered him the basics of the evening's kidnapping and their lack of theories or clues for where to begin looking. Bucky took a deep breath and stepped backward as the news hit him. He shook his head to clear it.

"Howard's son is alive?" Bucky asked. "How? He died on the battlefield. I went to the funeral."

"That is a mystery that Dr. Strange may have solved, but it is of less importance at the moment," she said.

Bucky wasn't clear on who Dr. Strange was. Bucky had kept his distance from nearly everyone at the funeral the previous year and hadn't kept up with anyone other than Steve (and Sam, when he would grudgingly answer calls). Bucky put questions about everyone else out of his mind as he processed the more relevant and surprising news that Tony Stark was alive and no one seemed surprised by it. It gave a different slant to the trail he had been following for months.

_Maybe the guy in the silver suit was looking to take Tony rather his family, and now maybe he has_, Bucky thought.

"Can I help?" Bucky asked, expecting to hear a resounding _no_ as the answer but was in store for another shock.

"Any help will be welcomed," Wanda replied. "Talk to Sam. I am leaving. I have an assignment."

"To look for Mr. Stark?" Peter asked eagerly.

"No," she shook her head. "To do what he would want me to do: protect what he holds dearest."

**oOoOo**

Pepper lounged on the sofa in the living room at the penthouse near the waterfront. The sky alternately flared and went dark as the storm continued to roll over the city. Morgan was in her room (hopefully sleeping) after finagling two stories from her mother by claiming it was only fair since it was supposed to be her father's night to read to her and he always gave her two stories. Pepper was exhausted but was going to force herself to stay awake long enough to take Tony's call. She looked at the clock and frowned. It was nearing 45 minutes since she expected a call, but she told herself to give him at least an hour. He was flying home with Peter, and there was a reasonable chance that the discussion involving MIT was going to take a while. Tony joked that Morgan acted as though she owned and controlled Peter, yet Pepper was swift to point out their little girl was an amateur compared to her father's feeling of propriety over the teenager.

She smiled as she recalled the torn look on her husband's face when she made the comment. He wanted to argue but doing so would have meant relinquishing his claim to holding a deciding vote on Peter's decisions. Seeing Tony Stark truly stumped without even the remotest idea of how to proceed was rare and a sight to behold. She chuckled at the memory as she felt a restless nudging in her abdomen.

"If it's not one Stark man then it's the other being temperamental, is that it?" she spoke softly to her bulging belly as she rubbed the spot where the agitation was occurring. "You think it's time for nighttime ninja moves and your father is rebelling. He's not calling me like I asked because he's grumbling about Peter making his own choices. That or he's busy finding bubble wrap. Oh, I don't even want to think about it."

The baby proceeded to arch and squirm leading her to scrunch her face at the discomfort and shift her position.

"Okay, is that because you're agreeing with me, or are you taking his side?" she asked tapping what she suspected was a foot trying to push it's way to the surface. "Let's get something straight here, my little man. Your father already Svengali'ed your sister into his cult of personality, but I'm counting on you being my biggest fan." She paused and considered the ramifications of that then groaned and sighed. "Actually no. That won't work. I don't need you and him competing for my attention. I'll never get any rest. Damn it. He's done it to me again. Stark men are going to be the end of me."

She sighed with equal mixtures of frustration and satisfaction. She looked around the room noting how quiet it was. She had not been back to the penthouse since before the battle. Immediately afterward, she was encouraged to leave the lake house and relocate to the city once again, but her first urge was resistance. The lake house held some of the best memories of her life with Tony—their life as a family. In the hours following the battle, she simply wanted to go to there and shut out the rest of the world forever. Returning to work, to the life she knew before, seemed like a punishment because it would never be like before. Losing Tony was like losing her own life. He had been the biggest and most important (at times aggravating) part of her world for more than 20 years. Life without him seemed impossible and certainly unwanted.

And then he was back. He returned to her and their family was whole again… better than whole. It was growing. Their son would be with them in a few weeks and maybe, just maybe, whatever it was that made SHIELD want Tony to stay in the shadows would be lifted so he could come out of hiding. The press and the attention from the public would be overwhelming at first. There would be insane adulation, vicious cries of conspiracy, notorious blaming, some insatiable stalking by "fans." Eventually, the world would burn out its fixation, and they could return to life as a family who sometimes got interrupted at restaurants by strangers or who got their pictures taken just because they were walking in the park. She knew the drill, knew how to handle the press, and understood the mania that struck people over her husband and how to face it. They would just get some bodyguards for the children and let Tony be Tony.

"By Christmas, the world will be over most of it," she told herself as she felt her eyelids grow heavy.

She was contemplating whether to allow herself a brief nap before calling Tony to remind him that he promised to call her when FRIDAY's voice sounded in the apartment. The AI was present merely as an informational source in the penthouse rather than as Tony's all present cyber assistant.

"Ma'am," FRIDAY announced. "Steve Rogers is at the door."

"Steve is here?" she asked for clarification as she sat up bolt awake. "At this hour?"

"He arrived via the helipad and used Rhodey's override code to access the security door," FRIDAY reported.

Pepper heaved herself with some effort off the sofa and walked (_not waddled,_ as Tony had affectionately—and incorrectly—observed that morning) to the door. She opened it with her heart racing and her hands shaking. On the other side, she saw Cap standing beside Wanda. Both were wearing serious expressions.

"Oh god," Pepper pressed one hand to her fluttering heart and the other to her protruding belly as she took a step backward. "Something's wrong."

"Pepper, stay calm," Cap said evenly as he and Wanda stepped into the apartment while two agents dressed head to toe in black while wearing helmets and goggles and carrying some scary looking weapons took up posts in the hallway.

"Tony didn't call," Pepper gasped. "Did they crash? Is Tony okay?"

"Where is your daughter?" Wanda asked rather than answer.

Pepper merely pointed toward the hallway and did not get a chance to ask anything further of the woman as she quickly walked in that direction. Pepper turned her frightened eyes to Cap.

"Tell me what happened," she ordered.

"We don't know precisely," he began. "Rhodes picked Tony up at the landing site as planned, but they were in an accident a few miles down the road."

"Are they okay?" she asked, her voice sounding hollow and distant to her ears.

Cap gently took her by the arm and led her back to the sitting area. He explained that paramedics found Rhodes unconscious behind the wheel and transported him to the hospital for evaluation and treatment.

"What about Tony?" Pepper asked.

"We know both airbags deployed so he was in the car at the time of the crash," Cap said. "However, the emergency crew only found Rhodes. There were other tire tracks at the scene and… The tires of Rhodes's vehicle and one of the windows was shot out."

"Shot?" she gasped. "With bullets? What happened? Steve, where is my husband? What does Rhodey say happened? Is he okay? What did he see?"

Cap explained that Rhodes was unconscious from the airbag and had no recollection of what happened immediately after he registered they were being shot at. He was currently at the hospital having a broken wrist set, getting a bullet wound and scalp lacerations stitched while being evaluated for concussion. He was expected to be released later that night. Unfortunately, from what Agent Hill learned from Rhodes, he had nothing more to offer other than the attacker rode a motorcycle.

"If Rhodey was hurt, then Tony might have been, too," Pepper observed with urgency. "Steve, his condition causes him to bleed."

"I know," he nodded. "Bruce is fully aware and said the paramedics report there was very little blood on the passenger airbag."

"But internal injuries…"

"Evidence suggests Tony walked away from the vehicle," he reported. "They just don't think he did so alone or of his free will. Sam has the team looking at everything. This was an ambush, Pepper. Whoever did this, they wanted Tony. So it stands to reason that when they took him they wanted him alive."

"No one knows he's alive but the Avengers," she said with horror at the implication.

"And some of his security detail," Cap added. "There's also the matter of whoever or whatever brought him here—back to us, I mean. Dr. Strange actually may have had a breakthrough on that. He was summoning Tony to the base tonight because he thought he might have an idea for how to cure Tony."

Pepper blinked as her mind was a whirl of question and fears. Gunshots and an ambush sounded eerily familiar to her. Tony had told her, after what happened in Russia years earlier, what happened to his parents. She couldn't help but think of them and their ultimate demise as Cap described the scenario.

"Where was Sargent Barnes?" she asked closing her eyes and hating herself a little bit for asking the question but knowing there was no way to avoid it.

"With Wanda at the base the whole time," Cap said not taking any offense and seeming to expect the inquiry. "That's the first thing Sam verified. I know what this sounds like, but this wasn't an assassination attempt. Someone who knows about Tony wants something from him and wanted to take him alive."

"Whatever it is, Tony won't give it to them," Pepper said. "Nothing can make him short of putting a gun to Morgan's head."

"I know," Cap said soberly, "which is why we're moving you and Morgan some place we can keep you both safe."

Wanda walked down the hall at that moment with Morgan wrapped in a blanket and resting her head quietly on her shoulder.

"She was already asleep," Wanda whispered. "I simply picked her up. Shall we go?"

**oOoOo**

Night bled into morning and the bleary-eyed team assembled in the dank, cramped briefing room away from the control room. The sudden focus of the Avengers behind closed doors had the other agents on alert but most remained in the dark over what they were scanning frequencies for other than a blip that would reveal the location of a single cell phone or any incoming calls to Pepper Potts' cell phone. Several control room techs even whispered about seeing the woman on the base that morning accompanied by a young child and an elderly man a few believed was a relative of the one-armed man receiving treatment in the sick bay.

With the base on alert, the team was feeling the tension. They were treading water, spinning wheels, running in place, anything but moving forward. Most got no sleep. All were main-lining coffee (including Peter) and everyone was looking grim. They'd gone over the duty roister from the Stark house. They'd accounted for all members of the security detail except one: Greg Benton. Pepper reported that Benton was in the city the previous evening acting as the head of Tony's security detail (the unauthorized one that no one at the base knew about). The patient, Ollie Reynolds, was still non-responsive to all questions and most stimulus.

For as concerned and focused as the team was, no one was as upset about the abrupt change in their weekend plans as Morgan Stark. She awoke in a barracks room from sleeping in a bed with her mother to find she was no longer in her room; she was no longer in the city; she was no longer going to spend the day in the park; she was no longer going to hear story hour. The wild, shrill shrieking of an upset and confused child echoed down the halls. The sound of the little girl's tantrum greeted Rhodes as he shuffled painfully into the briefing room.

"I take it that's Morgan?" he rumbled to Sam, who handed him coffee.

"Yeah, we're taking bets on when she falls back asleep from exhaustion or just loses her voice," Sam chuckled. "I say two hours tops."

"For the vocal cords to give out, maybe," Rhodes nodded. "For her to give up? Not a chance. Pepper's a determined woman and Tony… Give up just isn't in the family DNA. Does she know what's going on?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "Hill brought Pepper and the kid some breakfast. Pepper said the girl is just overtired and mad because wants to go to the park to hear some librarian read stories but found out she can't. How are you?"

Rhodes grunted and lifted an arm encased in fiberglass. He grumbled about being kept overnight for the concussion and setting of the bone. He was disheartened that he couldn't provide any helpful information on the ambush. He recalled being in the car, a motorcycle trying to blind him with headlights, then the gunshots.

"I woke up in the ambulance," Rhodes said. "I never saw anyone. Last time I saw Tony, he was sitting beside me. We were coming here because Bruce said Strange had an idea about how to cure him. We got anything at all on who took him?"

"Nothing," Sam shook his head as Fury entered the room with Banner and Strange close behind.

Wanda and Peter stood against a side wall with identical folded arm poses. Sam lurked at the back beside Rhodes; both wore weary expressions. Banner rubbed his neck and shook his head as he organized his thoughts. Strange's expression was an epic level of stony as he drummed his fingers on a small pouch in front of him. Fury look like he wanted to start popping off heads like the blossoms on dandelions. Cap sat at the table in the center of the room beside Hill. They each looked eager but worried about what they were about to hear.

"We're coming up on 12 hours since the ambush," Fury began. "All our cyber searches, all of our remote listening, and all of our leads are dead in the water. It's time to get creative. The first thing we need to do, is buy some time to find Stark."

He nodded to Banner and Strange to take over as he drifted to the side and let them give the crazier part of the briefing.

"We need to do it quickly," Banner added. "We've run some new simulations, and we're working against a clock. Tony is… he's in trouble biologically—that's in addition to being missing. We've got to find him and do it soon or…"

His voice trailed off as he looked up and saw a new face at the back of the room. Her eyes were tired and lusterless. Her blond hair was pulled back severely giving her a drawn look despite the maternal fullness of her cheeks. Pepper listened to the information without any expression on her face.

"The illness he has is killing him, rapidly by our calculations, but he still can be saved from it," Strange jumped in as an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. "And we can start that process now."

"Before Mr. Stark is even here?" Peter asked. "How?"

"He'll be where we are… when we are," Strange explained.

"I do not understand," Wanda offered. "What does that mean?"

A voice from the hallway answered the question. He huffed breathlessly as he jobbed into the room holding up a black satchel das he nodded to the men at the front.

"It's why they called me," Scott Lang said then nodded at the others in the room. "Hank wasn't totally cool with helping out, but…" He shrugged then grinned. "But I'm a pretty good thief when I need to be. I'll explain it to him later. He'll understand. I think he'll just want some credit, a thank you really… and maybe money… probably from Tony, but that's a discussion for another day. I got what we need."

Banner nodded and seemed to let loose a deep breath he had been holding in. He leaned heavily on the back of a chair and nodded.

"Great timing, Scott," he said with palpable relief.

"Timing," Lang grinned as he bobbed his head appreciatively and offered a thumbs up. "Good one."

Peter observed the discussion with cobwebs filling his head from lack of sleep and hours of worry, but was not able to follow the discussion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "What are we doing to save Mr. Stark?"

"You," Fury said, "are staying here…"

"And now," Lang added but was mostly ignored.

"… to be ready for when we find him," Fury continued. "There will be two teams on this."

"Three, actually," Banner said. "The, uh, away team, the rescue team, and the lab team."

Fury nodded, accepting the correction though his expression said it was unnecessary.

"Right," he said. "Dr. Strange will head the away team with the assistance of Mr. Lang. Sam, you need to put together your strike team for a rescue mission. Dr. Banner, you'll man the lab for… everything else."

As he finished, his eyes settled on Pepper who looked on with a doubtful expression. Peter appeared equally confused as shook his head then raised his hand, earning scoffs from Sam and Rhodes. Fury eyed them darkly and showed his thinning patience when he addressed the teen.

"This isn't home room, Mr. Parker," Fury said. "You got a question, don't wait to be called on. Just ask it."

"What are you talking about with away teams and strike teams?" he asked then flustered. "I get what a strike team is, but the away one…? What are we actually doing? Because standing here giving team names out doesn't seem to be getting anything done."

The teen cut his eyes warily toward the back and met Pepper's glance. She gave him a firm nod that signaled she was glad he said something. Her own expression said she was about to ask similar questions. In the end, it was Strange who answered the inquiry. His face was stern and the tone of his voice dire.

"We're doing exactly what Tony made it possible for us to do," he said and lifted his wrist to reveal a bracelet. "We're going back in time to save him."

"From what?" Rhodes asked. "I thought we couldn't go to another reality. We didn't even know how he got to ours."

The response the room got stunned everyone in the room except Pepper and Peter. Peter was unaware there was ever a discussion of multiple realities on the table regarding Tony's return from the dead. Pepper, however, looked satisfied and vindicated as what she had known instinctively all along was revealed as true.

"The man who's been here among you is the same Tony Stark who was with you previously," Strange explained. "He didn't step through a rip in reality. He was yanked through a fissure in time."

"Okay, I've heard some crazy and done even crazier since I met all of you but that…," Sam shook his head. "That's crazier than that talking raccoon."

His head, like everyone else's in the room, cut hard to the side as one final voice joined the discussion from the doorway to announce his arrival.

"I guess that's why they finally called me," Clint Barton said. "Out of all of you, I've always been the rational one."

**oOoOo**


	32. Chapter 32

**oOoOo**

Barton's appearance injected a new energy into the room. The seriousness remained but having another member of the original team back in the rotation gave a sense of hope to everyone. Pepper offered the man a hug.

"Clint," she sighed with some relief. "I'm glad you're here."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," he said. "Where's your little girl?"

"With Phil Coulson down the hall," Pepper answered said.

"Coulson's alive, too?" Barton shot a look at Fury. "Clearly, I'm not getting all the memos."

"You were retired, Agent Barton," Fury reminded him.

"So's Cap, but he's got front row seats," Barton pointed out as he nodded to his team member. "I know I'm coming in late, but I just heard that we're doing another stroll down memory lane. One question: How will that help? I thought the rule was that nothing you did in the past could change the present because once you go back today becomes yesterday. The present is a settled issue that can't be changed. That's what we were told previously."

"That is true," Strange agreed. "We're not trying to change this moment. We're trying to change the future, a moment that doesn't yet exist."

"We're playing leapfrog with moments now?" Barton remarked. "This minute isn't our focus, but if we go back an hour and change something then the minute that arrives five minutes from right now gets altered?"

"Essentially," Strange said as Barton shook his head like he was trying to expel water from his ear.

"Actually, it's a bit more complicated than that," Banner said, thinking of his discussion with the Ancient One about alternate timelines. "Some things in the past do have an impact on the future, pivotal things, but depending on when they happen—depending on what's happened in the gap between the past and the present—certain actions taken when going back won't have any effect. What we are proposing to do in the past is something substantial that will effect Tony today—meaning the point that happens in the present just as we make the changes in the past. What we propose to do is go back and basically change his cellular and nuclear chemistry."

He then nodded at Strange, who grimaced as he reached for the pouch in front of him. He pulled open the Velcro fastener then unrolled a series of syringes. He lifted one and stated contained a molecularized element suspended in a saline solution—dysprosium to be exactly.

"We propose to go into the past and inoculate Tony against the condition that's killing him right now," he explained. "By putting a sufficient amount of dysprosium into his body prior to the event that ripped him out of his own time continuum, we believe we can shield his body from the loss of its electromagnetic frequency, the condition that's trigging his cells to degrade. This won't do anything to fix the damage he has currently. The suffering he's already gone through won't be erased since he's lived through it. Any blood loss or other degradation he's experiencing at the present moment also won't instantly disappear. All of that is existing damage that altering the past can't fix. However, if we do this right, the dysprosium we pump into his body will stop the degradation and prevent more damage from happening in the present, but we need to act fast. This is a race against the clock."

Everyone in the room looked around at their colleagues and saw equally mystified expressions. Wanda spoke up hesitantly with a touch of shame tinting her words.

"I do not object to taking action to save Tony," she said and nodded sincerely to Pepper before she sighed. "However, is it our place to do this? Tony sacrificed himself to save everyone. It was a noble act. He died a hero. Circumstances I do not understand returned him, but is it our place to go back now and alter one life just to keep someone who is already gone? If we do this, what is to stop us from going back anytime one of us meets his or her end? What is to stop someone else from doing the same and saving the life of someone who has done and will continue to do terrible things? Why is Tony so special that we will do something like this for him? It feels like playing favorites or playing god."

The room fell silent. Faces were downcast. Eyes were troubled. Hearts were heavy. Fury was the one who answered her questions.

"If you took a poll of everyone in this room, the only majority vote on Tony Stark would be that he's a pain in the ass so obviously this is not because he's the team favorite," the director said. "We aren't playing god, Miss Maximoff. We're using a tool that a man—Stark himself—created using nothing more than the brain gifted to him by nature. As for this scenario being repeated, I think it highly unlikely we'll ever see this pattern of events again. Now, if you're asking me, is it our place to save one of our own? You're damn right it is. The world is a troubled and dangerous place. It needs all the help it can get even on a good day. Stark's got skills we need."

"Besides that," Strange added, "I'm a physician. I dedicated my life to saving lives. As far as we know, Tony is alive today. This plan is the only way to keep him that way. If he's already dead, nothing in this plan will revive him. I am proceeding under the notion that he is a living hostage suffering from a debilitation condition that necessitates treatment. My oath as a doctor compels me to do all I can to cure him."

Wanda did not look entirely satisfied, and most everyone in the room knew why. She still felt the loss of Vision and her brother. Although both had been gone for years according to the calendar, for her one was happened nine months earlier moments before she vanished into dust. Her twin brother's loss was further in the past and no amount of time would heal that loss.

"Also, tomorrow's Sunday," Peter offered to her. Wanda turned to look at him with confusion. "Morgan gets a piano lesson from her father on Sundays."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked although her expression softened.

"This _is_ personal, at least for me," the teen admitted. "To me, this is our chance to repay a debt to Mr. Stark. He saved us all. Now, we can save him. I understand what you're saying, and it's not my place to give you any orders, but if you're not interested in helping I'm sure you can leave and if you feel that strongly against this. There's no one in here who can actually stop you."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Pepper looked to the side to see Peter staring at her with determined eyes. His confession was honest and acknowledged that there was more than high ideals at play. Wanda said nothing, but she also did not leave. Sam watched everyone's tense posture and sighed.

"I'm all for the mission, but I still say the plan is crazier than a talking raccoon," he announced, breaking the tension.

"Perhaps," Cap offered, "but I've found that when faced with a crazy situation, fighting fire with fire works best. Howard Stark first taught me that. Tony later reminded me of it."

"Makes sense to me," Barton offered, earning a chuckle. "If we're gonna save Tony, crazy and problematic have to be part of the plan."

The confusion in the room remained high as everyone continued to process Strange's plan, but for the first time since the briefing began, Peter began nodding, seeing the logic and the possibility of success. He blinked rapidly as his head bobbed like he was doing an assessment of his own. The deadly problem facing Mr. Stark was a question of chemistry. The solution to it was a simple one: Add the necessary elements to the equation at the start so that it balanced at the end. It was the equivalent of following the directions for a lab experiment with text book precision so that you received the desired outcome upon completion. The main difference was that the mistake had already occurred, and they were rolling back a clock to fix it.

"So what you're planning to do is like that old movie where the guy takes make a time machine out of an old car and he jumps through time," Peter said.

Lang shook his head vigorously and chuckled nervously.

"Oh no," he said. "It's nothing like that, kid. That would be idiotic because it violates the, uh, some… proposition thing with physics and whatnot."

He looked to Banner for support and received only a sympathetic face. Lang then turned to Cap, whose expression was guarded yet intense. He offered no support for Lang, who sighed and remembered clearly Tony shooting him down the idea of time travel initially then accusing Lang of using "_Back to the Future_" as his inspiration. Tony stated in highly technical terms why their insane idea to time travel was not possible. Peter, however, didn't see any flaws in his own analogy.

"No, it is just like the movie," he explained. "This guy messed with time to make himself rich and whatever. He changed things so they had to go and fix what he did and sort of plug the holes where he messed with everything and created problems."

"That's basically it, yes, only we're going backward, not forward," Strange nodded to him.

Lang frowned and grumbled to Cap.

"I didn't know he was talking about _Back to the Future 2_," he huffed quietly. "Maybe I was talking about that one when Tony made me feel like a moron on his porch."

Strange cleared his throat and proceeded with his explanation. They had deduced (from the details gathered from Tony's memory loss, Pepper's observations of her husband, and the energy signature that accompanied his surprise arrival the previous fall) that he was taken from a window of time after Thanos's devastating snap but before Tony's fatal one. Strange was further convinced the timeline was narrower still. He believed Tony actually got taken during his own time travel.

"Hold on," Barton interrupted. "Tony was with us during the battle. He didn't disappear. So how could he leave from that time, still be there to use the stones, then show up here again after he died?"

Pepper stiffened at the blunt question, but she agreed it was a gaping hole in the mystic's explanation. She was certain the man she had been living with was her husband, but the "how" of it seemed flimsy from Strange's explanation. The former surgeon, however, did not see any conflict in his reasoning.

"Pepper identified a scar on Tony's hand that he received just a couple months prior to the team making the time jumps," Strange said. "Time travel wasn't possible before that point. So it stands to reason his time rift issue happened while you all were playing hopscotch through the temporal plane. The only logical answer is that he was taken not long before the final battle. All the evidence points to that happening while some of you did your DeLorean roadtrip."

Lang nodded, feeling vindicated by the movie reference in that context. Banner nodded his agreement with Strange's assessment then sighed heavily as he warned the room that this was where the whole thing got complicated.

"You mean it wasn't complicated before?" Barton scoffed.

"Actually, it's rather simple," Strange disagreed.

"To who?" Barton asked.

"Whom," Strange corrected.

"You do realize that I don't actually need a bow and arrow to hurt you, right?"

Fury growled and eyed both men to silence the banter and get on with the proceedings. Strange bowed his head, chastised, as he continued.

"I meant, it's simple if you've studied the right things," he said. "Not all answers needed here are classically scientific. This isn't a question of physics so much as it's a question of metaphysics. We're dealing with the dimension of time. It's fluid, and it exists in every realm of consciousness. Every second of existence is a lifetime and universe onto itself."

Banner explained that figuring out that concept was part of the premise that allowed them go back in time in the first place. Realizing that each moment was a fixed point on a multidimensional frame allowed the mind (and also technology) to grasp that time was essentially a solid thing that could be measured, plotted, and ultimately touched.

"Tony figured that out for us," Banner said. "It's how he was able to target the past like it was a map. He solved that puzzle and developed the algorithm that drives the GPS bracelets he created so we could go back to 2014 in space and to 2012 in New York."

Lang nodded and felt eager to participate since the whole idea of going back originally was his. He had stolen some of the necessary tools for this plan from Hank Pym as his part of the mission. Hank would want him to make sure that the whole discussion wasn't solely about a Stark.

"It's also how Tony and Captain America went back to 1970 in New Jersey when they sent me forward to the present again to tell you all what was happening," he added.

"I'm sorry, they did what?" Strange asked urgently. "I thought Tony just went to New York to grab three of the Infinity Stones."

"Well, that was the plan for Captain Rogers, me, and Tony," Lang insisted. "I did my part. I had one of the stones. Bruce got one, too. Then, Tony lost the one he was supposed to grab. That happened while Thor was saving the 2012 him from a heart attack."

Pepper's head snapped to the side as she blinked.

"Thor did what?" she demanded. "What heart attack?"

"Oh," Lang blushed and rounded his shoulders. "That was nothing… It was just a little cardiac arrest. It was his idea, Tony's, that is. And, um… uh… Captain?"

He looked desperately at Cap, who shrugged. Rather than go into the details of the attempted heist in the lobby at Stark Tower, he merely said their original plan encountered difficulties that required them to call an audible at the last minute. He and Tony sent Lang forward in time with one stone. Cap and Tony then did one more hop back to New Jersey to an old SHIELD base to get an even earlier version of the stone that had just slipped through their fingers.

"Were you and Tony together the whole time in the second past you visited?" Strange asked. "Did you have eyes on each other every second?"

"No," Cap shook his head. "We separated. I went to get the Pym Particles we needed to jump forward in time. Tony went to the subbasement to grab the tesseract from a storage locker."

"That's when it happened," Strange nodded and grinned triumphantly. "It has to be."

"Damn," Rhodes exhaled as pieces of the puzzle began falling into place for him as well. "New Jersey. Sam and I found Tony in New Jersey at Camp Lehigh."

Strange nodded, visibly pleased with whatever was coursing through his mind. He continued to grin slightly like he had conquered a battalion of problems that plagued him. The room watched with fascination.

"As I said, each second in time is a universe and a lifetime onto itself," he preached. "The soul, your inner power plant, fuels each of those lifetimes—those seconds that are their own universes. Humans simply experience each of those seconds, those lifetimes, as fleeting moments because our consciousness is not evolved enough to do otherwise."

Sam scoffed indignantly. He was running on no sleep and grew tired of babble that got them no closer to a plan or a useful clue to achieve their objective.

"Yeah, that's fascinating," he said testily. "Tony is missing now in this moment and dying, if I've been following you correctly. So what does any of this mean? How does it help us find him and the dude who took him?"

"It gives us some insight into what kind of man your kidnapper is," Strange advised. "We're dealing with someone either very dangerous or very crazy—probably both. Whoever did this ripped Tony away from just one of his seconds, which is bad enough, but the culprit made matters worse, fatal in fact, by never returning him but instead bringing him into the mirror dimension before depositing him back in the present. That's why Tony's missing right now: Whoever did this, wanted him alive in the present for some reason."

Banner cleared his throat to return the gravity to the proceedings as Strange's odd elation seemed out of place with the mood of the room.

"That act, taking Tony out of time, is the root cause of his magnetic misalignment, the thing tearing his cells apart," Banner explained. "There is no way to fix that in the here and now, but as we said earlier, there's a way to possibly stop it from happening now if we go into the past. We've got to get a sufficient amount of dysprosium in his system—get it in there and saturated and incorporated into his cells—before Tony reaches that second in time when we believe he was stolen."

"How can someone do that?" Peter wondered. "How do you steal someone from just a second but leave him in the second that follows?"

Strange lifted an eyebrow at the boy's ability to grasp the slippery concept so readily. Tony's fondness for the boy surprised Strange when they first met, but listening to Peter's willingness to accept what left most everyone else in the room baffled intrigued him.

"You use dark, dark magic," Strange revealed and wondered briefly if it was worth it to request a moratorium on Harry Potter cracks but decided not to waste the time. "To work a spell like that, to invoke the mystical powers of other dimensions, requires something excessively powerful to fuel it and to capture the universe of that single second then allow the subject of that moment, in this case Tony, to coalesce into his full human form at a later point in time."

"How much power?" Cap asked.

"The equivalent of creation itself," Strange answered to the awed room.

"Like that of an infinity stone?" Wanda wondered.

"Not precisely," Banner shook his head. "The power is something a human innately has so it isn't dangerous to the body. It's the force, the spark if you will, that starts cells dividing at conception."

They all looked puzzled with blank expressions or furrowed brows. Even Peter, who'd caught on to the rest of the discussion with relative ease, looked a bit lost.

"We call it the soul culturally, but it's something more than a moral compass or a religious idea," Strange filled in. "It is a very real, very powerful force tied to our bodies but that also transcends the human vessel. I don't have time to explain to you hundreds of years of teaching and meditation. I'm asking you to just take my word for it right now and run with it. Tony was stolen from his past. Then his body, his essence, was reconstituted in the mirror dimension. That left him mostly whole but damaged at the core of his cells—at the atom level. The process misaligned his magnetic frequency. It is killing him. We're going to go back to…"

"Slap a chemical condom on all his cells to protect against this time STD?" Barton offered then shrugged as Strange nodded. "You could have just said that at the start. I could have been looking for him for 20 minutes already if you'd just made your presentation that simple."

**oOoOo**

There was pain in Tony's shoulders and knees. His neck ached horribly, and his head throbbed. Opening his eyes was difficult but once done seemed pointless as the room around him was mostly dark. At least, he hoped the room was dark. Going spontaneously blind was not a problem he needed. The air was stuffy and dry, but there was a persistent taste of copper in his mouth that could only mean one thing: blood.

He lifted his head with great effort and squinted into the gloom. Not far from him, he discerned a shape that was roughly man-sized. It was lighter than the darkness but still not possible to see fully. As he stared at the form, it moved.

"Okay," Tony croaked weakly. "You've got me tied up. If this is a kinky sex thing, you've got the wrong guy."

The voice that responded was airy, like it was on the verge of laughing, but there was nothing humorous about it. There was a harsh edge to it like broken glass. It came from the dim corner to Tony's right.

"You won't survive this time, Stark," he said. "You can't beat me."

"Maybe not," Tony said, swiveling his stiff neck to try and gauge his surroundings, "but I bet I can annoy you."

His pulse quickened as images of being in a cave in Afghanistan assaulted him. His chest tightened as breathing became a bit of a chore.

"I'm going to make you suffer," Ghost said with hints of glee.

"Suffer?" Tony forced a scoff. "Okay. Just don't waste our time trying to make me beg because that's just not going to happen."

"I could do that, too," Ghost threatened. "I know your weakness: everyone you care about. I would start with Colonel Rhodes. Not difficult to get at him. Out of his exoskeleton he's just a cripple. I could strip his spine fully from his back like fileting a fish. Then there's the boy, your wall-walking protégé who worships you. He may have strength and agility, but one paralyzing pulse from this little trinket," he stuck a silver gloved hand into the light to reveal what looked like a fat lipstick dispenser, "and I could toss him off any building in New York. He'd be a red stain on the pavement in mere seconds."

The words pierced Tony sharper and more painful than a dagger. He swallowed slowly and fought with himself internally not to freak out as his heart and half of his mind were gearing up to do. Instead, he did the only thing available to him: He focused on something else. He chose the device in the man's hand, a device that he recognized. Tony hadn't exactly worked on creating the hand-held paralyzing pulse emitter. He'd initially created the original, a tiny and momentary energy burst generator for use in incapacitating an attacker in a non-lethal way. Obadiah Stane took the idea and gave it to his engineers to ramp up the hertz and make it capable of fully paralyzing. It was the one time Tony put his foot down on the creation of a weapon in those days simply because he was pissed they took his design without telling him. He was glad later when the U.S. military refused to invest in the thing—not that it stopped Obie from manufacturing them under the table and selling them to a different clientele. Tony was struck yet again by the irony of being made a victim of one of his own weapons. It was a lovely bit of karma that never seemed to lose sight of him forever.

"So, you got a name?" Tony asked once his anger was able to beat back his fear.

"Several," Ghost replied then snarled his second statement. "You called me Wrinkles."

Tony blinked at that. He had no recollection of ever addressing anyone that way, which of course didn't mean he had done it, but it did narrow when he might have done it. _The past_, he chuckled despite it not being the least bit funny, _really didn't stay in the past very long in his world_.

"Let me guess, 20 years ago I called you a name and it ruined your life so you swore a blood oath to ruin mine?" Tony remarked. "I've gotta tell you, I'm not buying it. Seriously, if me lobbing at name at you that you didn't like was enough to you turn into Doctor Evil, I gotta wonder how much of your problem is actually me. I mean, people said and did rotten stuff to me too, but I never focused my life on making them pay for it with elaborate kidnapping plots, drive-by ambushes, or hostage situations. Okay, this one time, I blew up a terrorist camp, but that was arguably fair. I was escaping captivity, and they blew up my military convoy first."

The man slithered out of the darkness to reveal himself cloaked in a head to toe in a silvery spandex covering. Tony blinked then laughed. It was a nervous laughter he could not control. It bounced off the floor and brick walls of the dark room.

"You won't find anything funny for much longer," Ghost said.

"Fine, but for the record," Tony replied as he coughed to kill the laughter, " this whole six degrees of 'blame Tony' got old in like 2015. So, I suggest you dream up a problem better than what the Russian Inigo Montoya had or the rabid C3-PO did to harangue me about. Otherwise, I'm gonna get bored real quick. Trust me, there are two things you do not want me to be: bored or scared. They both result in me getting very creative to alleviate the feeling."

Ghost merely huffed and depressed the button on his clever little device. Tony make a quick choking sound then went limp with his eyes staring at the floor, unable to even blink, as his muscles locked up and he became a prisoner in his own body.

**oOoOo**

The tension in the briefing room was ratcheting up again. Pepper had taken a seat at the table at Barton's insistence. She sat beside Cap as the discussion continued. Finally, she asked one of the bigger questions looming, one they had skated around but seemed worthy of discussion.

"Why?" she asked. "Why would someone do this? You're all operating under the premise that whoever has Tony now is the one who brought him here in the first place. If this man, whoever he is, wanted Tony alive, why would he give him this illness?"

Strange shook his head and explained that was one question he had no answer for, not even a hint, but he suspected the man at the heart of this plan did not fully understand the forces he meddled with when taking this action.

"I only know who helped do this," he said with guilt heavy on his heart. "My mentor took a bad path and I never tried to bring him back from it. I believe he assisted in this plot, but I do not believe he is the actual culprit. This whole gambit was psychotically dangerous and tricky—like playing Russian roulette with an atomic weapon. Whoever did this strategically went after Tony deep in the past. That speaks to me of immense desperation the same way bringing someone back from the dead just to hurt them again does. There has to be a reason for it, but I haven't a clue what that might be. Instead, I'm focusing on the parts of this I can know and understand. Captain Rogers, can you tell me the year that you went back in time to Camp Lehigh, was the date April 7th?"

Cap blinked and nodded slowly, recalling the date. His expression begged Strange to explain how, of all the days of the year, he hit on the precise one. Strange nodded and offered up his photographic memory as the source.

"April 7th is the date on which Maria Stark was admitted to the hospital thought to be in premature labor," he said. "Her pre-term contractions stopped later that night, and she was released after another day of observation. That incident is the only point of concern in an otherwise normal pregnancy as listed in her medical records and consequently mirrored in her son's medical records. It also explains why this insanely risky plan didn't kill Tony outright or erase his memory entirely."

At that offering, the entire room lifted eyebrows and merely waited for the rest of the explanation, figuring they were so far through the looking glass that no matter what they heard, they would accept it.

"He wasn't born yet, but he was present," Strange continued. "It's a phenomenal fluke, but it's what made this whole thing possible: two identical souls in one location. Tony was stolen at a time when he and his soul were doubled—there were two of them existing at the same time. It's why his soul didn't get fully depleted, which is what attempting something like should have done. Maria Stark's premature labor was the fetus's reaction to having his soul tapped. The other half of the fuel making this time theft work was the adult Tony's soul. Same soul, same place, different bodies, each soul gave a little for the cause."

Peter leaned on the wall and asked a question that sprang into his mind. It wasn't necessarily on topic for planning a rescue or traveling through time, but he wanted to know the answer all the same.

"Did that hurt him?" Peter asked warily. "You told me he wasn't like evil when he came back so I didn't need to hunt him like a villain. Now you're saying he's missing part of his soul."

Strange shook his head.

"The soul isn't a coffee cup that's drained permanently when you drink it," he alleviated the teen's worry. "The soul is more like the blood in your veins. You can donate, but your body will make more."

Cap sighed and shook his head. The explanation given would make an interesting movie in his estimation, but the implications of it worried him.

"Whoever did this knew we went back in time—specifically knew that Tony went further back in time with me," he said. "That's a small group, Doctor. Most of it is sitting in this room."

"Yeah," Peter said. "How do we know this whole thing isn't compromised right now? Like there's this other old movie about a guy in the Navy who works for the Pentagon, and he's looking for a Russian spy but it turns out all along he's the spy."

The words deadened any excitement that was building in the room. All eyes darted around to see if there was anyone who looked a lot less surprised by these revelations than the rest of them. Strange, however, was ready to dispel any desire (or fear) for a witch hunt. He scoffed and rolled his eyes as he looked at Peter, dismissing the theory while convincing everyone in the room to stop suspecting each other.

"It was only a small group who knew about the second jump when it first occurred," Strange addressed Cap rather than the teen. "Tony was found not long after his funeral. During the days before he was found, reports were made and placed on servers. There was undoubtedly a mole, perhaps more than one, already ensconced within Director Fury's ranks."

Strange cut his eyes at Fury as though reminding him he should look into that facet. The Director narrowed his one eye menacingly that clearly stated the problem was already being looked at. Strange, chastised by the man's belligerent silence, returned to his information.

"Obviously, everything here was chaotic," Strange relented. "A lot of people—including Director Fury—had just gotten back. Someone perusing records that were not theirs to read might not be noticed given those frenzied conditions. Whoever did this already had an in to using dark, mystical powers. A team like that wouldn't need a lot of planning time after bogarting one of your reports. For people like these, getting information and exploiting it is no more difficult that stepping outside to see the sunrise."

Everyone in the room nodded soberly. Strange used that pause to fully outline their inoculation plan. They would travel back in time and give Tony dysprosium shots (without him realizing that's what was in the syringe). That way, when he was pulled out of time, his cells would be fortified against the damage the process caused.

"Can you guarantee this will work?" Pepper asked.

"The polarity issue currently is destroying the nuclei of his cells," Banner answered. "No matter how you look at it, this is a bad romance between nuclear chemistry, molecular biology, and quantum physics."

"I didn't hear an answer of yes or no in there, Bruce," Barton observed. "Give us some odds. We traveled through time before and got back billions of people who vanished, plus," he turned to look at Strange, "Harry Potter here is a wizard."

"There are a couple of Tony's traits you could consider emulating," Strange remarked. "Pick another one."

Banner frowned at being put on the spot, but he thought it only fair to give the team an accurate assessment of what they faced. There was no danger to those who would make the time jumps, but the lack of peril did not guarantee ultimate success.

"If we give him the doses and his body absorbs them, then it should protect the electromagnetic signature of his individual atoms so they don't get damaged when he's brought forward in time," Banner said then groaned. "I don't want to be tied down to numbers or odds, and I'm not going to make you any promises. The likelihood of failure is high for a lot of reasons, but I don't think any of them are good enough to keep us from trying. This is statistically unlikely to work…"

"So was stopping Chitauri invasion of New York," Cap offered as he nodded firmly to Pepper before resting his age-spotted hand upon hers. "So was stopping Ultron, and the odds were more than 14 million against us to defeat Thanos. History shows that the people in this room consistently defy the odds when they work together."

Banner nodded his thanks to the man for his pep talk. Whether it helped anyone else the multi-PhD didn't know, but he certainly felt a bit better.

"So," Banner continued, "I can't guarantee we'll pull this one out of the fire, but I will say if we get Tony the inoculations, then it's a definite maybe on this being a cure. As for actually saving him, that is going to be up to the rest of you."

Barton scoffed, not liking the equivocating, particularly as it wasn't overly reassuring. However, he kept the sharp words on his tongue to himself as he looked at Pepper, who kept her chin up and her voice even.

"Will having dysprosium in his system most of his life hurt him?" she asked. "Bruce, you told Tony that he couldn't wear armor ever again with the dysprosium in his system. He puts on an arc reactor when he builds his first suit in captivity in 2008. If you give him these doses in the past, aren't you just setting him up to die earlier?"

Banner winced at the question and felt all eyes in the room focus on him. He swallowed then rubbed his neck as his immense shoulders curled inward slightly.

"No," he assured her then continued sheepishly. "I, uh, I lied to Tony about the danger with wearing the armor. I didn't want him to think he was well enough to jump in and help us out if anything happened. Telling him that wearing an arc reactor would kill him was my way of protecting Tony from himself."

Pepper sighed with some relief and nodded as she thought: _You did that better than I ever did_.

"The molecularized metal we'll inject into him is inert," Banner continued. "It won't show up on routine medical tests so he'll have no idea it's there. It won't react with anything else in his body. Even when he's testing for his palladium poisoning, it's not going to show on those scans or be an issue."

"How much dysprosium does he need?" Pepper asked.

"Roughly 35 milliliters," Strange replied.

"For those of us who don't speak metric?" Barton scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

"It's about an ounce," Peter quickly did the conversion. Strange again nodded to the teen.

"The chemical is in a suspension of saline so we need to give him the equivalent of 8 Tetanus shots," Strange offered. "The sooner it can be administered to him in his lifetime the better. The longer it's in his system, the more it will strengthen and infuse the cells. Unfortunately, it can't be done all at once. We need to build it up over time. Also, we can't keep going back to the same second time after time to inject him. It needs to be done at intervals over a few years of time so it's going to take a little bit of leapfrogging through his past."

He explained that he and Banner had gone through Tony's medical history and personal history. They had isolated what appeared to be the most opportune moments for giving the injections without it seeming odd and without needing a great deal of strategic planning on their part to execute.

"I'm going for the simple, easy gets," Strange said.

"You're gonna have to do when he's a kid," Rhodes asserted and received a nod.

"Precisely, children get shots all the time," Strange agreed explaining is logic.

"Yeah," Rhodes offered with a grimace, "but you're thinking of regular kids who went to the doctor's office. That's not how Tony grew up. His father was a multimillionaire with a mansion on Long Island Sound. Tony didn't go to the doctor's office; doctors went to Tony's house—only specific, pre-approved, well-known to the family sort of doctors. For him, it wasn't like today with assembly line medicine where a kid sees whatever one of the 10 doctors in the practice is available. Guys, he's an only child in a filthy rich family. There is never any unknown in Tony's world while he's a kid. Zero. He bitched to me about plenty of times at MIT. He hated going home because it was so regimented, and everything he did was watched by his mom or the staff. There was never anything spontaneous unless he specifically caused it, which is more than half the reason he did half of the crazy, rebellious stuff he did when he was a student. Look, his parents and Edwin Jarvis know everyone—I mean literally _every single person_—who gets anywhere near Tony when he's a little kid. Let me see where and when you think you're going to give him this stuff. I don't think you realize what you're facing."

Strange quickly handed over a folder that got passed to Rhodes. Out of courtesy, he opened it on the table beside Pepper so she could look as well. She knew plenty about her husband's early life, but those were from an adult's recollection of childhood. Rhodes had lived some of it side-by-side with Tony. He read the chosen points and shook his head at some of them. Where Strange went off the rails was in falling into the trap of thinking Tony's public image was actually his life. There certainly was a wild, reckless, anything goes vibe about him, but that wasn't necessarily the whole truth. Like with so many things about Tony, one had to dig under the well-crafted façade (to get under the armor) to find what was real.

"You've got to do all of it—every shot—before he's 21," Rhodes advised, discounting two of the dates on the page. "After that, you'll never get near him. He took over Stark Industries at age 21. The Board instantly—like day one—put bodyguards on him and they take their jobs seriously. It gets even harder to get near him by the time Tony's 26."

Strange scowled and asked what happened at that point. It was Pepper, not Rhodes, who answered.

"Tony got sick of the head of his security detail and hired Happy Hogan to oversee things," she offered.

"She's right," Rhodes nodded. "Make no mistake, guys. Happy's a fun guy but he's a rabid pitbull when it comes to guarding Tony. Hell, in the first year he was around, I barely could hang out with Tony without Happy and the goon squad of guards getting in the way—and Tony and I had been best friends for like a decade at that point. There's also the problem of Tony not exactly cooperating with anything he's asked to do, supposed to do, or told to do at pretty much any other point in his life. You've got your best chance at forcing him to take the shots when he's a young kid. I recommend you should cluster at least half of your target dates before he's at MIT—that gives you a 13 year window, but you're gonna have to avoid dates during the school year. He's at boarding school from age 6 to 13. The folks who run Philips Andover aren't going to let some unknown doctor show up out of the blue and give him a vaccination, not without getting Howard Stark's permission first (and there's not a chance you'll get that). The second anyone from the school calls the family saying someone tried to see Tony, Edwin Jarvis will be on the campus within an hour. Trust me, you don't want to get on that Englishman's bad side, and messing with Tony will do just that."

He continued to explain those constraints left them with the time rage of birth through age five along with summer vacations in between school years. Even those breaks from school left a narrow window, a little as a single week in June most of the time.

"What?" Strange blinked as his intricately crafted plan of attack fell apart. "Why?"

"Italy," Pepper responded. "His mother took him to Italy most summers as soon as he came home from school. They stayed at the family villa there and traveled throughout Europe nearly every summer."

Rhodes nodded, concurring with her information as he looked up from the file to stare at Strange.

"While we're throwing you curve balls, I've got one more hitch someone has to mention," he began. "I mean no disrespect to you because I know you were hotshot a surgeon and all, but what about those hands of yours?"

"I can give a shot without a problem," the doctor assured them.

"I don't doubt it, but I'm an adult," Rhodes noted. "He'll be a kid. He's going to see you shaking, and he's going to fight it. You think Tony's a handful as an adult? Imagine when he has even less impulse control and can throw a real tantrum. Did you hear Morgan earlier? Figure that time 10, I'm guessing. Kids don't like shots in the first place, and if you're trembling even a little..."

Strange glared at the man, who merely shrugged back as he stood by his offering. Working the kinks out of a plan to save the life of Rhodes's best friend had no room for sensitive egos. The doctor looked at the slight quivers in his fingers. They would not be detrimental to giving a shot the way they would be holding a scalpel, but he could see how they could make convincing an unruly, scared child to sit still for an inoculation a bit more difficult (particularly if there was a concerned parent by his side).

"I'll do it," Cap announced. "You all have jobs to do here. I'm of no use in the lab, and I can't go on a rescue mission. That leaves me the only one available to travel to the past."

"Plus, you look like an old pediatrician," Lang offered then blanched as he felt heavy stares on him. "What? He does. It's cute and reassuring, in a very masculine, patriotic, and heroic way."

"Fine," Strange huffed. "We'll picked our points in time again. Just know, there won't be time for us to deviate once we get there."

"I can go alone, Doctor," Cap assured him. "This is like delivering the mail. It's an easy task compared to what you all are facing. You might be needed here to lend other help. Besides, I've traveled through time more than once."

The MD in Strange would not hear of it. His oath to do no harm was screaming in the back of his head.

"I know," Strange replied starchily. "But I'm an actual doctor. I can't and I won't send untrained personnel to do a medical procedure without proper supervision. You can wield the syringe, but I'll direct how we give him the shots. I can also run interference with parents who have questions."

Cap nodded his agreement. It felt good to be part of the mission finally, and as Lang said he was perfectly camouflaged for his role. He did not need to alter his appearance to hide from anyone as no one he might meet in the past would have ever seen him in his present manifestation. Even more helpful, he knew all the likely people they might encounter and how best to deal with them if there was trouble or resistance.

"If this works," Pepper asked, "will Tony have a reaction of any kind in the present when these treatments catch up to him? What will happen to him now?"

"If our theory is right, the cell degradation will begin to slow as soon as he gets the initial injection," Strange answered. "It should cease entirely by the time we administer the final one. Whether it happens in time to save him is something I can't answer. Damage has been done and his cellular integrity is diminishing exponentially."

She nodded then rubbed her protruding abdomen where she could feel her child stretching and squirming, keeping time with her increased heart rate as her anxiety began to climb.

"What about the baby?" she asked as her voice hitched for the first time. "Tony said there was a chance that our son could suffer from the same condition he has currently."

Banner looked miserably at her and exchanged a dread-filled glance with Strange who nodded.

"Unfortunately, this solution benefits only Tony," Banner said. "Like the damage already done to him, the problem in Tony's cells was passed on to the baby at conception. Therefore, we theorize that there's a 99 percent chance that your son suffers from the same condition as Tony does right now. The damage is there already."

Pepper accepted the answer with a simple nod but felt like she'd had a knife plunged into her heart. The child was healthy as far as all of her appointments revealed, but the running theory Banner continued to explain was that it was her body that was so far preventing the baby from the distress Tony was experiencing. As soon as the child separated from her, he too would begin suffering compromised cellular integrity. Their son, who did not yet have a name chosen, was likely not going to survive long out of the womb. Pepper swallowed hard as that truth soaked into her bones. She bowed her head.

"No," Peter's voice cut sharply into the quiet of the room. "That's not good enough. Dr. Banner, you're a genius. You… you can come up with something. Can't we go back and give Mrs. Stark dysprosium too or maybe we could…"

"It doesn't work that way, kid," Banner shook his head. "This is a pre-existing glitch in the baby's basic programming. All of his cells basically have a suicide program that will start to run as soon as he's separated from his mother. The problem has been in him from the start. Tony didn't have this at the start of his life so we can go back before the problem existed to fix it. For the baby, this simply is part of who he is. I'm sorry, Pepper."

She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and blinked back a flood of tears she felt blister in her eyes, but her moment of quiet acceptance was shattered by the outburst from Peter.

"No, I don't accept that!" he snapped, startling everyone in the room. "We can travel through time. I flew to another planet in an alien space craft. Half of us disappeared into dust then came back. Mr. Stark died but came back. Captain Rogers was frozen in the Arctic for 70 years. Now, you're saying we just have to shrug and go: _Oh well this is too hard_. This is a little baby we're talking about, and you're… you're superheroes! Act like it!"

Pepper was touched by the fervor in the teen's voice and knew it was more for his missing mentor (and maybe a bit for feeling worry for his four-year-old admirer). Peter was facing possibly losing Tony again just after getting him back. Trying to grapple with the thought of a child dying as well while the greatest defenders of all time just stood by and waited helplessly for it to happen was not easy to take. Although she ached in a way that no one else in the room could fully understand at the prospect of what was going to happen when her child did arrive, she felt the need to comfort the boy who was so desperately important to her husband. She crossed the room and simply embraced Peter, who initially went rigid then shuddered briefly as he apologized to her as tears they shared squeezed out of their eyes.

"It's just not fair," he said softly into her shoulder. "There should be a way to make this right. Your son's not even born yet and one of the bad guys already sort of got to him. Dr. Banner said there's nothing he can do, but that just means there's nothing to lose if we try… anything. Mr. Stark told me that when something's that important, the risk doesn't matter so if there's any chance at all, you take it. We've just got to, you know, find that chance."

Pepper pet his cheek and saw a flash of Tony's influence that both pleased and pained her.

"I know," she said. "And I would take one if it presented itself. The problem is, there's no chance here. There's no option on the table."

Banner cocked his head to the side and repeated the teen's words in his head several times as Pepper quietly comforted Peter as much as he did for her.

"Uh, actually," he cut his glance at Strange, who offered him a glance that was either a warning or begging off responsibility for what the man was about to say, "there is maybe one very, very, slim chance. It's highly risky. It's a one in 10 million shot. I offered this possibility to Tony for himself weeks ago, and he refused it. He had good reasons—well-founded, scientific reasons—but his motivation for saying no might be your rational for saying yes."

**oOoOo**


	33. Chapter 33

**oOoOo**

Something cold, hard, and gritty pressed against Tony's cheek. He realized after several foggy minutes of wondering where he was that he was lying face-down on floor that hadn't seen a broom in ages. The air smelled of mildew. Movement was difficult for a variety of reasons.

First off, there was no strength in his limbs. He felt like he'd been electrocuted. One of the bizarre side benefits of being an actual engineer who built his own projects (rather than a paper one who only drafted the theory then left the build for others) was knowing how much things hurt when he miscalculated or did something drastically wrong. He'd shocked himself with varying degrees of electrical current more than once in his life. Each had one thing in common: He felt like a marionette with his strings cut each time.

_Sonofabitch zapped_ _with my own design_, he determined as he rolled with great effort onto his back to stare at a water-stained ceiling. There was a window covered with a honeycomb grate along the transom. It was too small for a man to crawl through even if he could scale what looked like leprous brick walls. The only thing the window was good for was to let him know the sun was up.

_So is it Saturday or Sunday_, he wondered then realized it didn't matter. He was trapped. It was a problem. Also another hurdle to overcome: His captor was crazy. Tony also hadn't taken his dysprosium treatment in at least 24 hours (perhaps as much as 48). That explained the persistent taste of copper in his mouth (at least partially). He recalled there was also a car accident in the recent past that might be giving him some issues.

He tried rolling his shoulders to get a feel for what was working and what wasn't, but all he could do was seethe in pain. His right hand groped toward his left side and found the shirt on his left shoulder stiff and crusty. A little probing found a sticky hole near his collarbone.

_Bullet_, he decided. He felt warm as well and figured that might be a fever.

Panic began building in his chest as his mind screamed the memories from the car: the flash of a muzzle flare; Rhodey slumping on the wheel as the horn blared; a van waiting along the road with its side door open.

Had the freak killed Rhodey? Did anyone know there was an attack?

That answer came to him with a frown. Peter would've known. He was waiting for a lift home. What had the kid done? Did he get bold and fly the jet himself when no one came for him? Did he go looking for them? Did whoever attacked find him first?

Tony's heart hammered harder against his sternum. Each breath he drew was painful and sharp as his lungs resisted expanding. The effort started a coughing fit that turned into choking and finally aspirating blood as though he'd had half a pint of it in his mouth just waiting to be spit out.

His anxiety only continued to grow as his head cleared more upon seeing the red spatter from his lips. Pepper would be anxious because he didn't call. She'd be pissed at first then do her own checking. She'd know he didn't make it home. His wife would call in the cavalry.

Assuming the psycho hadn't gotten to her as well.

Tony began shaking in earnest at the thought of this mad man getting anywhere near either of the females in the Stark family. Normally, Pepper could handle anything. She'd survived years with him (to include missile attacks on their home, poisoning with a deadly regeneration drug, and attacks by lunatics and armored drones), but things were different now. She was heavily pregnant, nearing the end of that process, and not in any condition to fight off psychos toting nerve paralyzers. And Morgan was just leaving behind the title of toddler. The scariest thing she ever faced was Brussel sprouts.

With a renewed sense of terror and urgency, Tony crept toward the wall and pressed his back against it to brace himself. The pounding in his ears was ominous as the trembling of his hands made it difficult to fold his arms as he tried to get hold of himself. An attack like this hadn't hit him in years. Back then, the only thing that saved him from these incidents was getting to work, forming a plan, and putting together the tools he needed to pull it off. He looked around and saw there were no tools here. There no odds and ends, no materials to miraculously and mechanically put together a weapon to muscle his way out of this.

_Harley_, his mind whispered to him over the constant throb of his heart in his ears.

Harley was what actually pulled him out of his worst crippling attack years earlier. If it was daytime, then Harley was at the house surrounded by Sam's guards. Harley would notice Tony wasn't there. Harley would go looking. Harley would know something was wrong. Harley, who had nearly failed out of Tulane and hadn't applied to MIT, was his last ace in the deck.

Unless the ambush was an inside job.

Who but Sam's guards knew Tony was around or had left the house that night? Tony realized that answer could mean Harley too was dead.

_I did this_, he assailed himself. _It's my fault. I just had to get out and go to the city. I put everyone in danger. If they're all dead… my whole family… it's on me._

The quickness of his heart, the shortness of his breath, and the sudden swirling sensation in his head consumed Tony as he slumped sideways and slumped to the floor again.

**oOoOo**

As the sun washed over the compound, Fury entered the briefing room where the designated away team was pulling together the final details of their time jumps. According to the last update, the team intended to leave immediately, but from the lack of movement out of the room, Fury was beginning to doubt they were on schedule.

"Gentlemen," he asked as he swept into the room where Lang, Rhodes, Cap, and Strange were formulating plans. "Where are you with picking target dates?"

They each looked up with bleary eyes and weary expressions. Coffee cups littered the table along with pages from the many files they consulted in setting the itinerary.

"We think we've got it," Lang said as he yawned. "None of these are ideal, but all of them will work with a little luck."

"Luck is nice when it's on your side, Mr. Lang," Fury said, "but it can't be part of your strategy."

"It isn't," Strange assured him as he stroked his beard.

They explained that they had assimilated all the tips and insights Rhodes offered them told us as well as reviewed available public documentation regarding Tony during his childhood. From those scattered details and the small anecdotes that were just for color at the time, they were able to piece together options that had not occurred to them on the first round of drafting the plan.

"It's looking like it just Captain Rogers and the doctor who need to go," Lang reported with regret evident in his voice. "I'll be staying behind in case… well, just in case, I guess."

"How many encounters?" Fury verified.

Strange reported that seven was the magic number. Tony's medical records on second review resulted in three solid possibilities. Those instances for the injections were not routine physicals like in their initial plan. Instead, they would start at Tony's very first hours and work their way forward through his childhood, slipping in to coincide with the rare "unplanned" events in Stark family that caused Howard such aggravation but broke protocol enough that a new doctor giving an injection would not be questioned or resisted. The final four visits were the most problematic as they would occur when Tony was overseas just after college. He would be without security around him, but little was known about his typical daily routine so they were going to have to wing it a bit and hope for the best. They had his Zurich address and a list of associates, but there were still many unknowns.

"I have a question," Cap asked as he tapped one of the thicker files on the table. "When you brought me in to work with SHIELD, I was handed a dossier on Tony. I was told it was all you had compiled on him. It was only two pages long and began with the events of his kidnapping by the Ten Rings in Afghanistan. This file here is nearly 30 pages long and the entries date back much further than 2008."

"You're asking why we didn't give you everything we had a decade ago?" Fury asked.

"I'm asking why you have a file like that to begin with if Tony only became a person of interest after creating his first armored suit," Cap wondered. "Secrets among a team never end well. I want to know why your organization spied on Tony his whole life when his father helped found SHIELD."

Fury sighed and flipped through the file jacket. It contained multiple pages, some going back as far as Tony's childhood from the photos at the bottom of each section. They read like surveillance dossiers and were all marked "classified" with SHIELD logos on the upper corners of each page. Fury thought about saying something along the lines of need-to-know then simply walking away. His first alternative to the belligerent approach was to remark that without all the extra intel their plotting for time travel would have been harder. He kept a lot of secrets. Some he would take to his grave. Others were of no interest to the world any longer and some simply didn't matter but considering his audience, he figured this was one case where the truth wouldn't hurt.

"He was observed for security reasons," Fury replied. "He had a SHIELD shadow on him nearly his whole life in one form or another: sometimes in person, sometimes remotely. I was even his stalker during his first two years at MIT. That's how I got to know Howard so well. Contrary to what some people believe, the man was very protective of his son. I had to give reports to him frequently."

"Says you," Rhodes scoffed and shook his head. "Interesting way to show his care: by having a secret organization spy on his son."

He hadn't known Howard Stark except to see him on rare occasions that he would show up at MIT. Those only seemed to happen when two conditions were met: Tony was getting an award, and there would be press around to record it. They were never warm or comfortable visits either. Absent the press presence, Howard never seemed to give his son much attention. In Rhodes's recollection, Howard was absent from Tony's life. Hearing he had his son tracked like a criminal sounded possible and like a simple way out of taking parental responsibility.

"SHIELD had him followed, not his father, but it gave the man some peace of mind knowing his son was being watched by those who could protect him," Fury reported with a glare at Rhodes. "Since the day of his birth, there was consensus among the council that shadowing Howard's only child was necessary. Howard recused himself from that decision but didn't object once it was made. There were a lot of agents rotating through the detail over the years. I personally lost a whole lot of sleep because of the two of you, Rhodes. For the record, I had hoped that you, being older and arguably more mature, would have exercised some restraint on him. I should have known better. The kid spends his first 13 years as a loner with a hundred acquaintances but doesn't let anyone actually get close enough to be a friend. Then he meets you. Suddenly, he has a partner he ropes into his antics. That alone should have told me you would be nearly as much of a pain in my ass as he was. I wanted to incarcerate the both of you—especially after the night you two were in conveniently at ground zero for an academic building being blown up. My two years on that assignment were like dog years."

Rhodes's eyes bugged out of his head and his chin dropped at the accusation. He sputtered his general innocence—in particular for their responsibility in the incident Fury referenced.

"Hey," Rhodes defended, "I did what I could to keep him in line. You don't even know half the stuff I talked him out of doing."

"Don't I?" Fury commented. "I had your dorm room bugged as well as his. Plus, your girlfriend during your sophomore year was working for me."

"You bribed Melody Thomas to report on me?"

"No, I ordered Agent Thomasina Melody, from the team I was overseeing, to stick close to a 15-year-old punk with an IQ of 217 who spent all of his time in a lab or trying to talk his best friend into helping him cause chaos on the MIT campus," Fury corrected. "We called it _Operation Spoiled Brat_ unofficially. Agent Melody choose to date you to make her assignment easier. Rhodes, for the record, you need to thank me for two reasons. First, for letting you two get away with your little pranks, and next for calling them pranks rather than what some of them were, which were felonies."

Rhodes closed his mouth and frowned. The felonies remark was not completely accurate (at least not for every idea they attempted… most of them was just really clever engineering hijinks with a side order of mild and good natured vandalism, and frankly every one of them started as Tony's idea).

"We never did anything that could get anyone hurt," Rhodes muttered chastised, but it gave him an idea as he pulled back the file at Fury's fingertips.

"Wait," Lang interrupted. "If you were watching Tony for his safety, why didn't he know? Rebelling teenager or not, if someone hears he's in danger, he's more alert and better able to take care of himself."

Fury sighed and nodded. This was the part of the discussion he had hoped to avoid, but the question was out. A refusal to answer would trigger distrust, and this team needed to feel it had all the information, even if the details were no longer relevant.

"Our surveillance wasn't just to protect Tony's personal safety," Fury confessed. "Hydra knew Howard's son was intellectually gifted and figured could be a hell of an asset. They also knew that father and son didn't see eye-to-eye on anything. Our network told us Hydra planned to recruit Tony. They wanted to use his estrangement from his father to their advantage, to manipulate him into joining them to get back at Howard. For the most part, they stayed away while he was in the U.S. They only watched him here. They didn't make a run at him until he was at the CERN."

That revelation drew all eyes to the spymaster. He grinned at their ability, after having seen and done so much, to be surprised by what was actually an elementary and obvious step for their foes to take.

"Don't worry, gentlemen," Fury said. "Their attempt failed. Hydra never had my patience or my insight. I watched him for two years; I knew him well even if he never once saw or spoke to me. Hydra sized up Stark and saw he was a genius but he was also too unruly; too certain he was right and that the rest of the world was wrong; too independent and completely incapable of following orders. Not to mention that he didn't play well with others and had, let's say, no team spirit. Basically, the bugs in the machinery made him too big of a risk for them."

"So not too much different from now," Strange noted.

Nearly everyone in the room nodded, some more enthusiastically than others.

"He also lived out loud," Fury continued, "craved attention, and when he didn't get it would go find it in whatever reckless way occurred to him."

"That's pretty much sums up his 20s and 30s," Rhodes remarked as he sighed.

"Hydra saw all that when he was 17 and decided Tony Stark was possibly the worst candidate ever for their ranks," Fury nodded. "He ended up taking himself off their radar as a prospect just by being himself."

"Yeah, those aren't exactly topnotch traits to be a spy," Lang chuckled. "I mean, the guy can't keep a secret. He outed himself as Iron Man after what, a day after the news reports about people seeing a robotic soldier?"

"More like 12 hours after it," Rhodes groaned at the memory. "They were long hours for those of us who were with him, believe me. You know who the real superhero is in the Stark house?"

"Pepper," Strange offered. "That's been obvious for a long time. I think she qualifies for sainthood by now."

"I'll leave that to the Vatican," Fury said. "I just know Hydra's reasons for rejecting Tony were our greatest defense against him being recruited. That left us with just one job: make sure Hydra didn't kill him. There was nothing Tony Stark did, nowhere that he went, that we didn't have eyes and agents on him. He was protected his whole life without knowing Hyrdra or SHIELD existed. Secrecy was a requirement for our operational security. It's a simple formula, gentlemen. Family makes you vulnerable when you run a covert security agency. Kidnap the kid, control the father—oldest game in the books. Howard knew Tony was a liability. He was always dedicated to his work first and foremost, but regardless of how it appeared to anyone else, I know first-hand that Howard cared for his son deeply; he just made a hell of a show of acting like he didn't. He let SHIELD protect his boy and asked only one thing of the council: that Agent Carter be in charge of the team that kept an eye on him because Howard trusted her completely."

Cap looked surprised at the information. He stated that his late wife never mentioned any of this to him. Fury scoffed at the man's reaction and stated he expected no less of one of the greatest agents in SHIELD history.

"She started on Tony's security detail the afternoon he was born," Fury said. "She was the mastermind behind keeping him safe all through his school years. Later, when he was on his own, she's the one who started nearly every media outlet in the world becoming interested in everything he did. Tony Stark didn't run to get in front of camera. SHIELD made the media chase Tony Stark. All those cameras, all those reports, left him with nearly no privacy, but they gave SHIELD public eyes on him no matter where he went. It was like increasing the number of agents on our security detail by a factor of 10. Agent Carter said the world press and the public at-large watching his every move would be better than a dedicated satellite, and she was right. Hydra knew that when the whole world's watching, it's a lot harder to do the unthinkable. Of course, we didn't expect that campaign to go over so well and eventually take on a life of its own. Nearly no expected the public to go nuts over him. I mean, how do millions of people see an arrogant brat strutting like he's got it all figured out and that the world is his personal playground but doesn't hate him just a little bit? We were floored, but not Agent Carter. She predicted at the start that's what would happen."

Cap smiled and nodded as he thought of his clever wife and her understanding of the human psyche. He was certain it was because she knew Howard so well. Peggy wanted to hate Howard half of the time, but she could never manage it. He had a way about him, a strut and brashness, that was publicly offensive for the times, but people still admired him quietly in private. In the modern age, bold and cocky was no longer offensive. It was admired. Near the end, when Peggy's mind started slipping away, she saw Tony on TV at the opening of the Stark Expo speaking to his wildly enthusiastic fans with a glitzy backdrop of fireworks, dancing girls, and loud music. She pointed at the screen and said within her husband's earshot: _Oh Howard, you never change_.

He sighed at the memory, but what Fury imparted for information raised a worry in his mind. What they had just learned created yet another possible snag in their recrafted plan. Lang also caught on and voiced the problem.

"Uh, if you've got guys watching Tony all the time in the past," Lang wondered, "won't someone getting near him with a syringe be stopped? Are you your agents going to jump out and break Cap's or the doctor's neck when they near Tony with syringes?"

Strange and Cap groaned and looked at their list and plans yet again. The doctor sighed heavily.

"Okay, so we know we're set for the first three at least," he began forcefully as he looked anxiously at the clock as more of their precious time ebbed away. "We've got three target dates. Let's start over beginning at number four."

**oOoOo**

Pepper rested in the room set aside for her and Morgan. Her daughter had spotted Peter and tackled him at the knees. He was not in a mood for playing, but Pepper was certain that whatever his outlook spending time with a four-year-old who needed to burn off excess energy would be good for both of them. Wanda had scrounged up a ball from somewhere and was apparently playing referee for a soccer match just outside the barracks. Pepper had watched for a few minutes, but the return of twinges in her side told her it was best that she get off her feet for a while.

She was resting in the room when Coulson arrived. Finding out he was alive was the only nice surprise. What he had to tell her was not. He informed her of some actions taken on her behalf. He had notified her executive assistant that Pepper would be at home on bedrest for the foreseeable future but could be reached by her phone and through email. Coulson said he posed as the nurse who would be taking care of her during this time. Pepper's assistant, Greta, expressed worry but was amenable to playing traffic cop to keep anything unnecessary from bothering her. The only thing Greta would send through would be the worst news business-wise. Sadly, some of that arrived swiftly.

Her problematic Vice President, Jacob DeLeer, was organizing a press conference for later in the week. Pepper was still waiting for reports for why he was a no-show at several meetings on his trip to Germany the prior month. She had not given him permission to call a press conference and couldn't nail down its purpose. Per Greta's information, the event was going to occur at Stark Tower in New York and would be co-hosted by the White House.

Pepper groaned. No doubt DeLeer was making his move to grab the Board's attention and confidence as he pushed for more on his project with the Defense Department. The fact the White House was joining in meant that President Ross was somehow involved as well. Pepper swore loudly in the concrete room and felt her blood pressure rise. The baby sense the shift in her mood and jolted, making her grimace with pain as he elbowed a kidney, punched a rib, and kneed her sciatic nerve. She massaged her belly as she exhaled slowly.

"You need to take a nap," she groaned. "I've got your sister crawling into bed with me at night and kicking me as she twitches. You're using my insides as a punching bag. I've got a mutiny on the horizon at the office that's pummeling my professional future. I need at least one of you to stop beating on me for just a couple hours. Deal?"

Rather than get an answer, there was a knock on the frame of the open door.

"That bad?" Banner asked from the doorway.

Pepper looked up and sighed.

"It's fine," she said. "Just tired and worried. Any news?"

"They're nearly finished with their travel itinerary," he reported. "I think they'll be leaving soon."

"How long will they be gone?" she asked.

"For them, it will be awhile," he explained. "For us, it'll just seem like a few seconds. They'll disappear and then before we know it, they'll be back as long as nothing goes wrong."

He sighed and looked down. Pepper placed her slim hand on his thick, green forearm.

"I'm only half joking when I tell Tony he needs therapy," she said. "I've never asked if you've seen anyone about… everything that's happened to you. Are you okay? You lost someone special to you the last time the team traveled through time. Tony came back after dying, but Natasha didn't. None of this can be easy on you."

"I've been through worse," he said.

"Which is what Tony says and what makes me mention therapy," Pepper nodded.

"My work is my therapy," Banner told her. "Helping people, finding answers. That's what gets me through rough spots. Have you given any more thought to what we discussed?"

He didn't want to push, but the cure he was proposing—using the Abraham Erskine formula Howard reconstituted—appeared to be the only chance for her child to survive. It also would only work if administered prior to Pepper giving birth. They needed the baby to be in a healthy, stable state just as he was currently so the RNA reprogramming would take hold and the degradation they believed was imminent would not occur. She was already experiencing occasional contractions, and her due date was just six weeks away. Adding to the equation that this was her second child and she was under immense stress, Banner wasn't convinced she was make it full term before the baby decided to greet the world.

"It sounds… impossible," she said frankly. "I know impossible is the only card I've been dealt, but I would just rather discuss it with Tony before I make any decisions. This is our child. You told me he objected to using the serum. I want to hear what he has to say."

Banner nodded. His research and findings were not going to change. The odds on the outcome were not going to change. The only things that might change in the coming days were whether Tony would be around to give his opinion to Pepper or whether the baby decided to cut off the avenue entirely and make a run for the light before a decision was made.

"I was actually coming in here to tell you that Clint contacted Harley," he said. "I convinced Fury that Peter's right. If we want any chance of getting at Ollie Reynolds to actually talk to us, we've got to get that implant off him. Harley's been working with Tony. There's a chance he could help us figure out the technology. We're going to get him working on it as soon as he arrives."

**oOoOo**

Happy was pretty sure he'd broken a land speed record on his way from the city to the Stark house. He and May ended up with a full, uninterrupted weekend when Peter called to ask if he could spend the weekend with his friend Ned to go to a computer science expo going on in New Jersey at Rutgers University. It sounded fishy at first, like a ploy to cover for something a lot wilder than a bunch of pocket protectors talking about computer code, but Happy did some internet research. He verified that there was an event happening at the university. Ned was a computer geek so Happy considered that sufficient confirmation. Besides, he trusted that if Peter took off for anything outside the city, it was likely to hit Tony's radar. He would reach out to the kid, and if he suspected there was anything amiss, he'd drop a dime to Happy to round up the kid. But all weekend the phone was quiet.

Then Monday happened. Happy followed his normal routine. He checked in with his various deputies regarding a handful of company security matters. The leading one was what took the most time. They sent a VP to Germany (one Happy recalled that Tony never liked or trusted) and the guy took off and was unavailable to his colleagues for more than half the trip. His excuse of being in the hotel with a migraine didn't smell right so Happy had been following up and was waiting for a report from their overseas security specialists. He'd promised that report to Pepper first thing and now was about to miss a deadline. So, he did the professional thing: He bought her a blueberry scone (slathered in peanut butter—her lingering craving) and a green tea with soy milk and honey before proceeded to her office.

He wasn't expecting his food offering to exactly appease her, but he also didn't expect Pepper would be in bad mood. She got a night out with Tony and hadn't called to express her displeasure with Happy for helping the guy break house arrest. There also were no tabloid headlines proclaiming Tony Stark was alive, nor there were any trending videos to show he was spotted either. So when Happy got to Pepper's office, he was jolted to find out she was not at work and wouldn't be any time soon. He tossed the food in the nearest trash bin as he madly dialed Tony only to get the guy's voicemail. If Pepper was suddenly home on bedrest and Tony wasn't answering, something was very wrong.

Happy completed the two hour drive in just under 1.5 hours then tore up the driveway, not caring whether the guards who lurked in the bushes saw him, cleared him, or would tackle him. He'd been a boxer. He could hold his own. He was out of his car and rushing toward the house when Tony's intern stopped him.

"What do you mean no one is here?" Happy huffed. "Something's up. Pepper was put on bedrest this weekend. She's not supposed to go anywhere. Where's Tony? Where's Morgan?"

"I don't know," Harley shook his head and appeared worried. "I got a call from Hawkeye, uh, Clint Barton, the Avenger. He gave me directions to where they work now and told me to get there immediately. Happy, I don't like this. Tony doesn't involve me with the whole Avengers thing—ever. Now, they're calling me, and you can't find Tony or Pepper."

"Give me those directions," Happy ordered. "Get in my car. We're going together."

"What if Tony's the one who needed a doctor?" Harley asked, feeling a lot more like the little kid who first met his boss when crazy, heat generating killers showed up in his town. "He hasn't been getting better, no matter what he tells himself."

Happy grunted and kicked himself internally for not trying harder to talk Tony out of his stupid jaunt to the city. Not that Happy had ever talked Tony out of doing anything, but he was always supposed to try. Happy hadn't noticed Tony looking any worse lately. Of course, he didn't see him every day the way Harley did. He also last saw him when he was excited to be away from his confinement. Tony loved his wife unflinchingly. There was literally nothing Happy could think of that Tony wouldn't do for Pepper if she asked or needed it. If anything had happened to her or the baby, Happy felt certain Tony would have called him. The fact that Tony wasn't answering his phone and that it was nowhere to be found by GPS told him the intern was unfortunately on the right track with his worry.

**oOoOo**

Roughly the time Happy reached the security perimeter of Camp Delta, a spaceship (one that didn't show up on any military radar) was touching down at the desolate wasteland of the former Avenger's base. Agent Hill was there to meet it and escort the visitors the 10 miles to the new compound. Her orders were merely to retrieve, not to brief. She was a little stunned to see who one of the passengers was, but she was growing used to surprises in recent days. Apparently, dead didn't mean what she thought it did anymore.

She brought the quartet to the control room. One member of the party went with Fury to his office. The other three were taken by Hill to Banner's lab. As they entered, the Asgardians nearly filled the room while their blue companion slouched against a wall and remained quiet like a teenager sulking in the corner. Banner looked up from his monitor as he sensed them enter his lab.

"Thor?" he gaped and stepped forward to greet his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"You summoned me," the God of Thunder announced, shaking his blond locks proudly. "You were in need so I am here. I just don't know why I am here. Is there some threat to Earth that I do not know of? Valkyrie hasn't sent for us."

Banner took in the pronoun and looked behind the mass of bone and muscle to see a slighter build god with dark hair and narrow features. He held his chin arrogantly high but eyed Banner with a hint of trepidation.

"Loki?" Banner gaped. "I thought you were dead."

"And I thought you only used fists or at most two and three word combinations to communicate," the God of Mischief said. "I suppose we are all full of surprises."

Banner furrowed his brow then looked behind both men and nodded to the last member of their party.

"Hi, Nebula," he said. "Good to see you. You're running with these two now?"

"I felt an overwhelming urge to char the tree into ash so I decided a trip to Earth with Thor was a better choice," she said.

"Yes, well, that is a funny story," Thor explained expansively. "Nebula was assisting Rocket with a hatch door repair. Things can get tense when working in such close quarts. Groot rather surprisingly announced 'I am Groot' out of the blue, and then Nebula was all _'you need to get your branch out of my vice'_ to which he said _'I am Groot.'_ So you can see how these things can escalate, even between friends. I had just arrived with Loki and suggested perhaps she might like to join us as I was coming here. How are you?"

He clapped Banner jovially on the arm and offered him a sincere expression. Banner cast a doubtful look at Loki then beckoned Thor closer.

"Um, how is Loki alive?" Banner asked covertly. "He died. Thanos killed him."

"Indeed, that did seem to happen," the god grinned then reached his thick arm backward and dragged Loki into the discussion, "but unstoppable fate intervened."

"That," Loki droned as he slipped free of Thor's grip and stepped backward, adjusting the sleeves of his long jacket, "and glorious trickery."

"He can be slippery and clever," Thor beamed proudly. "I'd only just located him when your message reached me. Quill sends his regards, but ship problems and whatnot kept him from making the journey. The accommodating Captain Marvel assisted us in our journey."

"So you found your brother, who deceived you into thinking for five years that he was dead, and your first thought was to bring him here with you?" Banner questioned. "You do recall that he's the guy who tried to take over the planet a little over 10 years ago, right?"

"Yes, he is the very one," Thor nodded as he smiled. "I, too, often think of the good old days, even more so now that Loki has returned to me." He then leaned in and his expression grew serious as he lowered his voice. "He's actually my prisoner. He just doesn't know it yet since I haven't told him—it's for his own good and to keep him from, you know, stabbing me and escaping like he's apt to do if he feels cornered. I think it best if we just keep that part of this between ourselves."

Banner's grin froze on his face. He nodded mechanically as he shot a warning glare at the other god. Loki leaned back and blanched a shade paler.

"Right," Banner nodded. "The reason I sent for you previously was to ask for help, but things have changed recently. I'm on a different track; however, I think we could still use your assistance."

**oOoOo**


	34. Chapter 34

**oOoOo**

The third (or as Lang counted: sixth) time was a charm when it came to planning the time jump.

The end result of all the restarts in choosing points in time was for three teams geared up. They were finally ready to go. Strange and Cap would travel in tandem to do the bulk of the injections, concentrating on Tony's childhood. Rhodes and Lang would travel separately and administer one injection each.

Rhodes's participation needed to be limited due to his injuries, but he was also the only one who could get at target date five with any reliability since he was present at the actual event. The date fell during his and Tony's time at MIT in the middle of a mishap that was not their doing. That night, a fellow student accidentally caused a small explosion in an academic building while Rhodes and Tony were unfortunately present. Rhodes recalled the time frame of their escape from the scene—an effort by young Rhodes to avoid them being blamed for the incident. Tony, he reported to the team, was sufficiently senseless after hitting his head when they were knocked down by an accidental blast that blew out the windows of the building's lobby when a fellow student's after-hours experiment failed. Then 19-year-old Rhodes hauled his friend away from the building and stashed him on a bench near the parking lot before running back to the scene to make sure security and safety officials were on their way. He returned 10 minutes later to walk his groggy friend back to their dorm while listening to 15-year-old Tony ramble about seeing ninjas on campus. Present-day Rhodes figured Tony's loopy state while resting on the bench due to the concussion would be a good cover allowing him to stick his friend with a needle then disappear before Tony could object and before past-Rhodes returned to collect his friend.

Lang's task was a bit trickier. His target moment required the stealth of someone familiar with breaking and entering. There was a bit more danger associated with his time target as well. The instance was well documented, down to the precise minute when he would have his window of opportunity. However, he would be hiding on a rooftop that was going to explode while two men, who knew each other very well, were battling to the death in hi-tech armor. Strange could have tackled that incident himself—it would be too physically demanding for Cap to participate—but the doctor opted to leave it to Lang to cease his pouting about not being able to do anything beyond having stolen Hank Pym's necessary particles to allow them to travel.

Cap and Strange had a laundry list of appointments mostly throughout Tony's early life. In all they had six stops. Six shots. Six chances to either save the guy who would become Iron Man or six opportunities to drop the ball on the only chance they had to save Tony. The weight of what the team was to do was heavy on all of them as they assembled at the field generator machine. They suited up then gave each other one final nod before each of them disappeared.

**oOoOo**

**Location**: _Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center, Manhattan, NY_

**Age**: _8 hours_

Cap did not remember a rushing, vertigo feeling from the last time he traveled to the past. In his recollection, the journey was smoother. When his feet touched down this time, it was in an alley in lower Manhattan. It was night. The air was thick with the stench of exhaust and the pungent aroma that cloaked New York City when the weather got warm. He pulled a deep breath of it, promptly began coughing, and gripped the side of the building to keep from falling down.

"You okay?" Strange asked as he steadied Cap on his feet.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Just a little more disorienting than the last time."

"The last time you weren't a geriatric working with 5 hours sleep for the previous two days," Strange said. "Can you still do this? If not…"

"I'm fine," Cap said, straightening his shoulders. "I just didn't stick the landing. I'm ready. Are you?"

From their research, they knew Maria Stark gave birth at 12:47 p.m., while her husband was stuck in mid-day traffic. Howard arrived just after 1:30 to meet his son and learn that his wife had finally settled on a name: Anthony Edward. The father stayed with his new family for about an hour before he was summoned back to work; whether it was for SHIELD or Stark Industries was not documented in the records they reviewed. The hospital notes showed Maria kept her son with her for the afternoon and finally sent him to the nursery at 7 p.m.

That was their opening. A little rifling through some staff lockers produced a couple stethoscopes and the all-powerful white lab coat worn by doctors. No nurse at that time would dare question anyone costumed in that way because to do so would guarantee a pink slip.

Together, Cap and Strange walked the halls, scoped out the maternity ward, then made their entrance. There were a dozen infants in the room, all snoozing, wrapped in blankets with small knit caps on their heads. They walked between the two rows unobserved by anyone. The lights in the room were low, and only the soft murmurs of babies having their first dreams filled the air.

"Over here," Strange said in a low voice as he peered at an infant near the immense window for family and friends to view the newborns. "This one. Scrawny, little thing."

Cap joined him and saw the small white card affixed to the side of the small plastic and metal cradle marked "Stark." Cap's first impression was that the baby was tiny like the rest of his roommates but somehow he looked more vulnerable. The fake doctor allowed that was probably because he knew he was about to stick a needle into the small creature. There was little in the face that resembled the adult he would become other than the dark, round eyes. As Cap stared, Strange folded down the blankets on the small body and revealed the bandaged area covering the still-moist, healing cord that previously tethered the infant to his mother.

"Inject there," Strange pointed with a tremble in his slim, scarred finger.

Cap took a hesitant breath as he removed the syringe from his pocket and took off the protective cap.

"I still don't feel right sticking an infant with a needle," Cap said nervously.

"You're inserting necessary medicine through the umbilical," Strange said testily, pointing to a space just below the knot in the flesh. "As long as you only insert it as far as I tell you, you won't harm him. He won't feel a thing."

"He's not going to feel this?" Cap asked once more for assurance.

"He doesn't understand pain yet so whatever he feels, he'll forget three seconds after the sensation passes," Strange said as he looked around the nursery and shook his head. "I still can't believe they used to leave infants unattended like this during shift changes. Although, kidnapping babies for profit is problematic for a lot of reasons."

"Not to mention unconscionable," Cap added tersely.

"Hold up," Strange said stopping the procedure before it began as he suddenly gripped Cap's arm. "Someone's at the glass."

Cap did not turn around. He did as Strange did. They each side-stepped to another child (one going left and the other right) then move to the row behind, adjusting blankets and acting as though they were doing a routine check. Strange offered a hushed instruction for Cap to remain in the room and go to the desk at the back like he was making notes in a chart while the actual doctor in the duo went to the door and left the nursey. Cap did as he was he was told and heard a soft murmur of Strange being summoned by a female voice. Cap looked up surreptitiously from behind the desk and felt his heart flutter.

Peggy.

His wife stood at the glass talking with Strange, who nodded then pointed toward the window. Apparently, her task to protect the infant began soon after Tony's birth. Cap turned his back again, eager to see her yet knowing he could not. He remained huddled at the back of the room until Strange returned several minutes later.

"That was one of Howard Stark's workers—a secretary, I think," Strange said.

Cap scoffed, even decades after she proved she was equal to (and often times above) any man in her profession, she was still relegated to the underling role in the eyes of so many, even someone as smart as Dr. Stephen Strange. Then again, Cap reasoned, she likely left the man with that impression purposefully. Controlling a situation was always one of her specialties.

"That," Cap revealed, "was my wife. She was a lot of things to Howard but never his secretary."

Strange sigh and gestured apologetically with his hands.

"Let's just do this before another family friend or stealthy spy shows up," he remarked.

Cap nodded and moved back to the child.

"I never knew she came here," he said, thinking about what other secrets (small or large) she might have kept from him. "She told me the day that Howard became a father—mentioned it when she got home that evening—but I didn't know she came here or that she was the one arranging Tony's protection."

Strange made a noise in his throat that was part understanding and part annoyance. He then repeated his orders. Cap followed the doctor's instructions for location and depth of the needle, sunk it into the infant's flesh, then depressed the plunger.

The sleeping infant's eyes opened instantly. He began howling instantly and did not cease within three seconds after the treatment as Strange predicted, which in hindsight the father in Cap knew was unlikely to happen. Rather than be moved by the crying, Strange jerked on Cap's sleeve for them to depart as step one in their plan was done. However, Cap could not just leave. He was a father and a grandfather. A screaming baby was not something he could blithely ignore. He touched the infant's hand as it jerked and flailed. Cap made soothing noises that swiftly quieted the squirming, startled child.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I never meant to hurt you, but we're doing this for your own good."

The baby looked up at Cap with dark, wide, confused eyes then reached his small hand around Cap's finger and gripped it.

"We'll call that our first handshake," Cap smiled before adjusting the blanket that got kicked off the tiny body. Satisfied the baby was tucked in appropriately, he followed Strange out the door.

**oOoOo**

**Location**: _Glen Cove, New York_

**Age**: _4_

The sun filled the sky, and the air was heavy and sticky as June rolled through Long Island. Cap and Strange pulled up the curving driveway after being granted access through the front gates of the Stark mansion. They had arranged the meeting through a phone call made to Maria Stark. They were posing as physicians (one from her son's pedestrian's practice and one from the Center for Disease Control). As they pulled their stolen Mercedes Benz to a stop in front of the house, Strange gasped at the sight.

"What the hell," Strange gaped. "It's Gatsby's house."

Cap chuckled at the man's amazement.

"Howard liked to make an impression," he said. "He bought this house last year. Before that, the Starks lived in lower Manhattan. Maria wanted a yard for Tony to play in rather than having him surrounded by concrete and cars all the time."

"Doesn't he start building engines when he's like five?" Strange scoffed.

Cap shrugged and cited a mother's prerogative to bring her son to a less congested atmosphere, away from the noise and the bustle of the city, to a peaceful, majestic spot along the shore.

"Sure," Strange scoffed, "because who doesn't need 20 acres, a 7,000 square foot home and 500 feet of shoreline to become a well-adjusted kid."

"It was his wife's request, and Howard doesn't deny her anything if at all possible," Cap said sternly. "Besides, how Howard spends his money isn't part of the mission."

Whether his tart response was in defense of Maria Stark's tastes, Howard Stark's indulgences, or the strong personality those two things eventually influenced in their son was not certain.

"There's just the three of them living here?" Strange shook his head. "I guess I see why Tony used to go for extravagance. He learned it at home."

"Howard grew up with next to nothing and wanted to shove it in the world's face that he wasn't a poor kid from a backwater street anymore," Cap recalled. "Tony got sent to boarding school at age six then college at 14. He lived in dorm rooms mostly. He didn't spend much time here."

They walked up the marble steps as both began wilting in the hot day's sun. The immense mahogany double doors with the scrolling iron work loomed ahead of them like the entrance to a palace. Strange continued to marvel at the immense size of the house for such a small family while wondering if that fueled Tony's craving for attention. The house could have 25 guests, and they might never see each other. Living there virtually alone, especially as a child, might make anyone desire a crowd to stave off feelings of isolation.

"How do you know any that?" he abruptly asked Cap. "None of what you just said was in Fury's records. Did you stalk Tony?"

Cap shook his head. He confessed to keeping up on his teammates when he could. He wasn't sure why he had done that, but he did. The easiest one was Tony.

"My wife worked with Howard for 50 years," Cap answered. "What she didn't tell me, I read about it in the paper or magazines. Later, when Tony took over his father's company, the whole world wanted to know about him."

"Yeah, a 21-year-old CEO of a fortune 500 company," Strange shook his head. "That was crazy."

Cap shrugged as he rang the doorbell. Crazy or not, the 21-year-old took the million dollar company and made it into a billion dollar corporation. It was Tony's designs and innovations that fueled the meteoric rise of the company while he left the financial side of the business to a partner. Obadiah Stane didn't make any moves in the early years without getting the CEO's concurrence—and Tony was never anyone's yes man. Cap pushed thoughts of that nearly-fatal partnership out of his mind as the door was presently opened by a woman with a round face, short dark hair and an olive complexion. Her neat black dress and soft-soled shoes flagged her as a servant as much as her hushed voice and quick steps. She led them into the house toward a high-ceiling room with light walls, soaring windows, and a grand piano.

"The doctors, ma'am," the servant announced them as they entered.

Composed was the most perfect way to describe Maria Stark. Her blond hair was sleek. Her fair complexion was porcelain. Her makeup was understated and flawless. Her pastel suit was exquisite. She walked toward them gracefully, like discreet royalty, and held a dainty hand out to greet her guests.

"I'm afraid Dr. Johnston overreacted," Maria said. "I only contacted the office to get an appointment for a follow up. I know two weeks ago my husband was a bit brusque about demanding Dr. Johnston see Anthony, but he was very sick that evening with a fever. My call today was not an emergency. You didn't need to come here. I'm sorry if we've imposed on your schedule."

"Imposed?" Cap asked. "Oh, no. We're merely here for the follow up on the… um…"

"Swimmer's ear," she reported with a nod. "We have a perfectly chemically balanced swimming pool yet my son prefers splashing in the ocean. I know Dr. Johnston said this latest bout was cleared up, but I want to be certain. We're flying to Italy next week. I'll feel better knowing his ears are fine before we spend seven hours in a pressurized cabin. Also, I'd hate to deprive him of the chance to get a brand-new ear infection by diving into the Mediterranean once we arrive."

Her words were those of an experienced if slightly frustrated mother. She offered an ironic smile that had her visitors returning a grin and questioning how much of Tony's sarcasm was actually due to the offhandedness of his father as opposed to the sassy poise of his mother.

"Well, Dr. Johnston thought it would be best for us to do that check as well as administer a vaccination due to your upcoming travel," Strange offered.

"Vaccination?" she questioned with concern etching her soft expression. "What for?"

"The CDC has isolated a strain of RSV, that's short for Respiratory Synctial Virus," he continued. "Your son falls squarely in the group at the highest risk for the infection. This strain of RSV has recently been mistaken for the common cold, but it progresses quickly and can lead to dangerous forms of bronchitis and pneumonia."

"I've been a mother for four years and never heard of RSV," she challenged. "Anthony is not an isolated child. We travel frequently, and he is exposed to many different places and people. On the whole, he's a very healthy child."

"He is," Strange answered. "But as I said, until recently, this serious strain of RSV—like so many others in its class—was mistaken as a common if virulent cold. The recent data shows a marked increase in its diagnosis now that we have a more sensitive testing. Your son's pediatrician noted that you spend several weeks each year in Italy and other parts of Europe with him. The CDC's focus for this virus has been for children in your son's age range who frequent overseas areas and spend time in central and south-central Europe as well as coastal regions along the Mediterranean."

Maria tilted her head and lifted a delicate, perfectly curved eyebrow with supreme doubt. The expression (if not the actual appearance of her face) was strikingly familiar. All that was missing was a derisive eye roll and Cap would be certain Tony learned his disbelieving expression from her.

"That's a rather specific and unlikely population to concern the CDC," she noted with a challenging sharpness neither man expected.

What was equally unexpected was the explanation for their rouse coming so swiftly and smoothly from Cap.

"The families of State Department's foreign service officers, families of several international companies headquartered in the United States, and military families were the population that brought this virus to the government's attention," he listed. "My college here is with the CDC and has been one of the leading researchers with the study."

Strange blinked but kept his face passive.

"Yes," he nodded. "The vaccination is, of course, optional at this time as we do not have a sufficient case load yet to call it officially an epidemic among that select population—although my years as a physician tell me that is only a matter of time if people refuse these simple preventative measures. I feel obligated to tell you that in the last month there have been a dozen cases that resulted in emergency hospitalization of children age 3 to 7 who contracted the virus. Two were released within a week of receiving the treatment successfully. Seven others recovered but with permanent damage to their cardiopulmonary system."

Maria's resistance crumbled. Her expression grew stiff with fear.

"And the other three?" she asked carefully.

"Tragically, those cases were ultimately fatal," Strange reported in a somber voice. "As a mother, I'm sure you understand that the younger the child, the more vulnerable the patient."

Cap coughed suddenly at the man's bold approach and flagrant manipulation as the woman before them blanched. She instantly marched out of the room and shouted shrilly to into the house.

"Anthony!" she paused and waited but there was no response. "Anthony!"

She left the doorway and walked swiftly into the soaring foyer and called again to no avail. She summoned the woman who answered the door and had a hushed conversation with her in what sounded like Italian. As they spoke, the soft sound of a latch releasing sounded in the room making both men turn in time to see the cabinet door of a built in cupboard on the far side of the room standing open where it had been shut moments earlier.

"House elf?" Strange suggested as both men scanned the room.

A soft giggle was heard from behind the sofa then the curtain moved on the other side of the piano. Finally, a small mop of brown hair and a pair of remarkably familiar, round, dark eyes peeked around the side of the grand instrument. He was small and skinny with thin pale limbs sprouting from his t-shirt and shorts.

"Um, Mrs. Stark," Cap said lightly, catching her attention as he summoned her to the room then pointed. "I believe that's our patient."

She hurried into the room and released a tense breath as she put eyes on her child.

"Oh, Anthony," she sighed with relief as she crossed the room and embraced him. "I was worried you'd gotten out again. You are to answer me when I call you. Now, come with me."

She took his hand and led him toward the sofa as he spoke to her with a soft voice in words that were not English. His mother smiled reflexively then her lips went instantly flat as a pink hue filled her cheeks.

"You know your father's rules," Maria said. "You speak English in this house."

He muttered again in the foreign tongue, directing his words at his small shoes as his lip jutted out in a pout.

"And you certainly don't use words like that in any language," she said but the sternness of the words was not matched by the gentleness of her tone as she sat on the sofa. "You didn't learn those from me."

"No, Mr. Rossetti," the boy nodded proudly as he sat beside her.

"My son is very curious and can be a bit mischievous," Maria explained to her visitors with a touch of pride and a hint of irritation.

"Did he start speaking at an early age?" Strange wondered.

"Yes, nine months," she answered as she pet his hair. "His father jokes that Anthony hasn't stopped since. Howard describes our son as a magpie on a live wire."

"You don't say," Strange commented that made Cap want to stomp on the man's foot.

Maria did not seem to notice as her attention remained firmly with the little boy at her side. She explained that her son wasn't merely chatty but that he was clever as well. She related that he had a room full of toys that he ignored (unless it involved taking them apart) and that he was more interested in sneaking into his father's workshop behind the garage to tinker with his father's tools, usually without permission.

"There are worse things he could do," Cap consoled her. "My neighbor's children used to sneak out of their home to go swimming in their pool without supervision. That can be very dangerous."

"Oh, Anthony's done that as well except he goes all the way down to the shore," Maria reported, placing her hand briefly over her heart to signal the fright that gave her all the while giving the boy a frustrated look that faltered into an accepting smile as he grinned back at her. "We lock the doors of course, but he still managed to get outside. Jarvis, one of our staff, discovered how Anthony does it. Sweetheart, tell them how you snuck out."

Her voice was firm but not angry as addressed her son, who was huddled close to her, eyeing their visitors warily. When he answered, it was a hushed, almost shy voice.

"I climbed," he whispered.

"Yes, you did," she frowned as she turned again to her visitors. "He used the shelves in the library like a ladder to get to the window then opened it. He managed to remove the screen then climbed down 15 feet using the trellis to get to the ground. My husband was not pleased by Anthony's problem solving skills." She pet his head as she kissed it. "I now live in fear that my little Houdini will someday break his neck. I watch him like a hawk and try to stop him from going on his little, private adventures during the day, but even a mother needs to sleep, and my son is very determined when he sets his mind on doing something. My husband's business partner, Obadiah, suggested putting Anthony in shackles, but Howard said it would just encourage him to learn how to pick locks."

Tony grinned proudly like the idea intrigued him. Then he stole a cautious glances at the strangers again. He quickly squirmed behind his mother on the sofa. She explained to him that he needed to see the doctors to make sure his ear was better and that he needed some medicine so they could take their trip the following week. Not surprisingly, both offerings resulted in firm head shaking from the little boy.

"Children can be so precocious," Strange said stiffly as he reached into his bag.

Both he and Cap were glad they'd gone for the authentic accoutrements for this gig. In the black leather satchel was a stethoscope and an otoscope, which Strange donned like a pro. Maria wrestled her toddler back to a sitting position. Strange knelt in front of Tony and went through the motions. He took a peek into his ears then listened to his heart and lungs all the while the child's big, brown eyes stared at him with unease. Strange proclaimed him healthy enough for the next treatment. It was at that mention that the boy slipped free of Strange's reach and bolted from the couch. Rather than flee the room, he scrambled onto the piano bench. In a silopsystic fashion reminiscent of a cat pretending the rest of the world simply did not exist by turning its back, the boy began playing a beautiful solo piece that Strange swiftly identified.

"Mozart?" he ventured and received a nod from Maria. "_Sonata 16_?"

"Yes, in C major," Maria nodded.

"He's quite good for his age," Strange blinked. "How often does he get lessons?"

"I used to teach him on Sunday mornings, but he's begun teaching himself recently," she smiled as the nearly flawless playing continued. "At least when I hear the piano, I know he's still in the house and where to find him."

"He plays like this all the time?" Strange asked, unable to keep the awe on his face out of his voice.

"He's doing it because you're making him anxious," she whispered.

"This is anxious?" Cap asked.

"He retreats into what he can control—like playing the songs he chooses or speaking to me only in Italian—when he's anxious," Maria replied as the piece continued. "My husband fears that Anthony's worrying will turn him into a concert pianist, but I think that's unlikely."

"Why is that?" Strange asked, managing to sound believably doubtful that the child would pursue music over engineering.

Maria looked at her son, who continued to play. His little legs swung back and forth with the up tempo of the music, which left her shaking her head.

"He can't sit still for one thing," she continued then sighed. "There's also the problem of…"

Before she could finish, the song changed abruptly in the middle of a measure to a piece Cap recognized as Beethoven's _Für Elise_. Duly impressed at the child's command on the instrument and memorization of the compositions, he stared appreciatively at the young boy. However, his admiration caught the child's attention and prompted something of a tantrum. Tony looked out of the corner of his eye and frowned. He then began to play in what could arguably be called a sarcastic way by plinking out a forced and stilted version of _Heart and Soul_ that tripped into a purposefully sloppy rendition of Chopsticks.

"…this happening," Maria continued as she shook her head but smiled. "He stops or changes pieces in the middle if he gets bored or decides he doesn't want an audience. He'll play badly to make you stop listening."

"That's surprising," Strange said then modified his answer as Cap cleared his throat. "I mean children usually like when they receive attention."

"Oh, my son likes attention," she assured them. "But only on his terms." She turned her head to look directly at her child. "Sweetheart, if you won't play properly, then leave the piano alone. It's not a toy. Now, come here. These doctors made a special trip to the house so we don't have to rush around later in the week. You want to go with me on our trip, don't you?"

The little boy lifted his hands from the keys as his chin sunk low to his chest as he sighed. He looked with uncertain eyes at the black bag resting on the coffee table then looked at Cap warily. The older man smiled reassuringly but received a trembling lip in response. His mother coaxed him off the bench. He sat beside her on the sofa and began quivering as soon as Cap pulled the syringe from the bag. Tony gave a sharp intake of breath and tucked his small body into his mother's side.

"This will only pinch for a second," Cap said warmly.

The response he got was childish, fearful, and struck a nerve in Cap that he had to fight to ignore.

"Liar," the little boy whispered.

"Anthony, be polite," Maria instructed.

"Here," Strange said, reaching for an additional alcohol swab. "This will make it hurt less and be over before you know it."

He made a rough production of pushing up the boy's short sleeve on his arm while casting a silent order with his eyes at Cap to do his stick as the child was distracted. As Strange fiddled with Tony's arm, Cap inserted the needle and pushed the plunger into the boy's thigh. It did the trick but prompted a yelp of pain followed by several words (this time in English) that Cap recalled from his childhood in Brooklyn that also did not find favor with Maria.

"Anthony Edward Stark," she scolded. "Never say those words again. Now, say you're sorry."

"But I'm not," Tony sniffled quietly as he rubbed the injection site then curled up into a ball and burrowed into the cushions.

"Then I'll be sorry on your behalf," Maria said. "Doctors, I apologize."

"That's quite alright," Cap nodded. "No one likes getting a shot. He did fine."

"The inoculation should help fend off any of the more serious respiratory viruses that concern the CDC at this time," Strange said abruptly as he stood up and prepare to leave. "Should our study note any additional vaccinations recommended for your son given your proclivity for travel, we will reach out to you directly."

The servant showed them to the door. As they entered the foyer, Maria could be heard trying to explain to her child why she was not going to call his father followed by an assurance that his leg was not going to fall off. Cap and Strange departed swiftly, not speaking until they were in the car and headed down the driveway toward the gate. Strange looked oddly satisfied.

"What's that look for?" Cap asked. "Do you have any indication that the treatment is working?"

"What?" Strange shook his head. "No, I just had a theory confirmed—a sociological one, not a medical one. I always suspected that Tony's proclivity toward drama began as a child and that scene, that brewing tantrum we just left, confirms it. A wailing meltdown for the purpose of parental attention is a predictable reaction in children who feel ignored."

Cap huffed. What he saw and heard was a little boy who got a shot he wasn't expecting and didn't like it.

"You don't have children, I take it," he said.

"No," Strange confirmed. "Not in my wheelhouse. I was always too focused on my career and being the best in my field. The problem with parenting is you will never know if you are doing it right because your success depends in large part on another sentient being who has thoughts and feelings of his or her own."

Cap sighed and shook his head as they left the driveway and the mansion behind. A warm, summer breeze wafted off Long Island Sound and filled the car.

"You know you're doing it right when they love you and they are happy, good people themselves," he corrected the doctor. "The measure is there and easy to find if you know where to look."

Strange rolled his eyes at the grandfatherly scolding. He understood it to a point, but he was motivated by knowledge and intellectual advancement. Children never interested him beyond the ability of their brains to sustain injuries then rewire themselves in ways an adult brain could not. It was a purely empirical admiration.

"Beyond the sociology, I was also surprised to learn that Tony's both eidetic and echoic," he said.

"Which means what?"

"Essentially, it's what pop culture calls a photographic memory and a corresponding ability with hearing," Strange explained. "He must be. That's the only way a child that age learns to play Mozart and Beethoven that well while being bored doing it."

"What is the relevance of that?" Cap wondered.

"Nothing," Strange shrugged. "I just never thought he and I had anything in common. Now, I know we do."

Cap said nothing but thought the observation absurd. Strange and Tony were a lot a like in his book: diminished patience with others; tendency toward arrogance; gifted intellectually but not always socially. Instead, the soldier posing as a doctor refocused on the mission.

"After we return this car to the parking lot, are you ready for our next stop?" he asked.

Strange nodded and pulled up his sleeve to look at the targeting bracelet.

"ER, here we come," he sighed.

**oOoOo**

**Location**: _North Shore Hospital, Manhasset, NY_

**Age**: _12_

Cap started down the hallway with Strange beside him. They were in white lab coats again as they walked with purpose toward the emergency room bays. Cap spotted Howard, red-in-the-face angry and scowling at his driver (Edwin Jarvis), who served as his son's unofficially nanny/caretaker. A slim man with a bland face and the patience of a saint, Jarvis waited silently as his employer fumed.

"What the hell was he doing?" Howard snarled furiously. "I can't leave work every time he tries something stupid because he's bored or because his mother went away for two weeks without him."

"Yes, sir," Jarvis said mildly. "While specialists might want to diagnose today's accident as a ploy for attention, I think there is more to it than that. This was found in the garage near where the mishap occurred."

He offered a notebook to his employer, who initially ignored it.

"Mishap?" Howard scoffed. "That's going to be his artful explanation—don't spoil his bullshit for me with a preview."

"Of course not, sir," Jarvis said lightly. "However, you have told him numerous times that innovation comes from inspiration. You've also regaled him with your tales of triumphant discoveries following, shall we say, blunders and how mistakes can lead to astounding breakthroughs. I believe I've heard you more than once say the primary difference between fooling around and research is documentation."

As he spoke, the polite and dignified Englishman gestured again to the notebook in his hands.

"I say screwing around not fooling around—and you're lucky I respect you, Jarvis," Howard grumbled, although the edge had left his voice. "Not many men would dare speak to me that way."

"I only speak this way to those I respect, sir," he replied dryly.

Cap and Strange hung back for a moment, waiting to see if the two men would leave the immediate area and allow them easy access to the patient behind the curtain before a real doctor assigned to the boy's case arrived. The seconds ticked by agonizingly.

"Well, I don't see anything astounding about dropping a 150-pound engine on a concrete floor," Howard growled. "It's even less impressive when you so badly snap your pulley system lifting the thing that it rips out of the ceiling breaks your collarbone. This wasn't innovation. This was recklessness, not a mistake. This was Tony being disobeying me—again."

"Or, sir," Jarvis prodded, "he was merely curious. He does possess that trait and has a hard time curbing those urges—something Mrs. Stark believes is hereditary but not from her side of the family. If looked at in that light, his endeavor today could simply be an attempt to try a new and independent means of working on his latest project on his own."

Howard huffed, and Cap watched as the man grabbed the notebook that Jarvis offered him. Strange nudged Cap forward, seeing this as their opening. The surgeon nodded to him, and they turned toward the curtained off area. They were nearly there when Howard turned suddenly and intercepted them.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. "Bill Mortimer is the head orthopedist on staff here. This is his patient."

"Yes," Strange answered fluidly. "I'm Dr. Stephens, and this is Dr. Buchanan."

Cap nodded silently, not looking directly at his old friend. He doubted Howard would recognize him after so many years, but there was always a chance so he hung back behind Strange and wouldn't meet Howard's eye. The inventor was hot under the collar at being summoned to the ER and with not seeing the doctor he anticipated to take the case. It seemed that Rhodes's intel on how the Stark family operated where access to Tony was concerned was spot on.

"Why are there two more doctors down here to examine my son?" Howard demanded. "What else is wrong?"

"Nothing, Mr. Stark," Strange replied. "We're on Dr. Mortimer's staff. We're here to administer antibiotics and an anesthetic before we get your son in clavicle rings to stabilize and set the fracture."

"Two doctors for some shots?" Howard scoffed. "No nurses available?"

"Dr. Mortimer thought you would rather it was done by physicians," Cap added.

"Fine, but why two of you?" Howard's eyes narrowed. "How does that work? One jabs him and the other pushes the plunger? Guys, don't bullshit me. I know when I'm being lied to. What the hell is going on? The last lab coat who was here said my son just needed a bone set and to get his skull looked at to see if he finally managed to crack that hard head of his."

The difference between Maria Stark's behavior when her son's welfare was in question and Howard's reaction were night and day. Her concern resided entirely with her son. Howard's seem to be with the speedbump the ER visit caused in his schedule. As parental concern went, there was a definite lack of it in the man's voice, which pained Cap. When his own son fell off his bike as a child and broke his collar bone, Cap sat with him in the ER offering assurance and comfort. He would never have stood 10 feet from his child while arguing with the staff and making disparaging and critical comments about the boy. Strange, however, took the verbal barbs as though they were as mild as a discussion about the weather. He kept his tone even and assured Howard there were no other injuries or issues suspected. He stated their presence was merely precautionary.

"Bones heal quickest and cleanest if the body isn't fighting off any infections," Strange explained with a superior lilt to his voice. "Mr. Stark, anyone who is important enough to get Dr. Mortimer to come down to the ER on his golf day for a routine broken collarbone gets the VIP treatment. That means his two best associates on staff are here with syringes. Now, if you don't mind…"

Strange pushed past Howard with practiced arrogance. Cap kept his eyes down and followed, noting that the notebook in Howard's hands was covered in a lot of writing and diagrams.

They stepped behind the curtain, yanking it closed immediately as Howard began grumbling again to Jarvis.

"This is what he was doing?" he demanded of his employee as pages in the notebook were heard turning. "What the hell is all this? It's… It's…. This is… Jesus. Do these equations balance?"

"I couldn't say, sir," Jarvis replied. "The calculations appear quite complex. I can't precisely follow them as my skills lay outside the realm of advanced mathematics."

"Advanced?" Howard huffed as more pages turned. "How did he even…? He tried to calculate resistance ratios to shift the weight without needing a corresponding equal counter balance? That shouldn't be possible."

"And yet he did it," Jarvis noted, sounding impressed. "At least somewhat, it seems."

Howard did not appear to be listening carefully as he continued to speak.

"He ran tensor algebra through vector geometry and walked it back through calculus to come up with his variables," he muttered. "Christ, I've got PhD's on the payroll who can't do this. Where did he come up with this idea?"

He sounded equal measures of amazed and fearful. Beneath the surface of anxiety in his voice, there was a strong current of pride.

"The things young boys will do to stay occupied on a summer vacation never cease to amaze," Jarvis said dryly.

"Yeah," Howard replied distractedly. "I'm getting worried MIT won't challenge him for very long. I should have let him skip another grade so he could go earlier."

"You promised your wife that Tony wouldn't live in a city surrounded by 600,000 strangers until he was at least 14, sir," Jarvis reminded him. "As I recall, that was the deal you struck when enrolling him in a boarding school four hours from home in the first place."

"Jarvis, I swear there are moments when I wonder if you'll ever forgive me for sending him away," Howard huffed.

Behind the curtain, Strange scoffed and busied himself with looking at the chart beside the bed. He perused it then pointed to the child's arm. Cap removed the syringe from his pocket, swabbed the area as he had done twice before and inserted the needle. Tony reacted docilely this time, not even flinching or asking what they were doing. Cap cast questioning eyes at Strange who motioned to the chart and mouthed the word "sedative." Apparently, painkilling medication had already been administered.

Tony stared at Cap drowsily with those dark, familiar eyes glazed over and unfocused. He lay back looking at his "doctors" with a vague detachment from the scene. There was an out of place bump not far from his shoulder signaling the location of the break that landed him in the ER. The precise why behind how it happened was a mystery to Cap and was unimportant. The old soldier let his eyes meet those of the patient looking up at him. The dark gaze was so readily recognizable for the shape and the color, but there was something more he recognized now after his last round of inoculations: fear. He'd seen that look from Tony several times over the years and never fully understood what it meant until he saw it in the child versions where it was stripped of all attitude. It was pain and fear mixed with dread and a feeling of helplessness.

"It wasn't your fault," Cap said quietly to him instantly without knowing why.

"Doesn't matter," Tony said groggily as his eyes closed. "He's always mad… doesn't like me."

At that instant, Howard yanked back the curtain brusquely while Jarvis departed. The father's arrival went unnoticed by his now sedated son. Strange and Cap nodded at him then turned away. Strange left first. Cap lingered just beyond the gap in the curtain to see his old friend standing at his son's bedside, notebook with incomprehensible math equations clutched in one hand.

"Tony?" Howard asked gruffly but got no indication of comprehension.

The pretense of angry, disappointed father vanished instantly as Howard hung his head. He dropped the notes on the bed then slowly brushed back Tony's short hair. The world renowned inventor and darling of the Defense Department sighed in a shuddering fashion before bending down and kissing the unconscious boy's forehead. When Howard spoke, he did so softly though his child could not hear him.

"Kid, you're gonna be the death of me," Howard said in a shaky voice that expelled his own fear. "Your mom always says I don't know how to talk to you any better than you know how to listen to me. She also says we're both too damn smart to fail like this all the time."

He sighed and then licked his thumb and rubbed a smudge of dirt off the boy's cheek where a black eye was beginning to bloom.

"So here's what I want to tell you but that you can't hear yet," Howard continued. "When Jarvis told me an ambulance was rushing you here, I thought the worst had happened—my nightmare come to life. Tony, there are bad guys out there who want to hurt me and will hurt you to do it. I'll explain it all to you someday when you're older and ready to hear it, but for now you gotta be more careful. Don't you ever scare me like this again. Your old man's heart can't take it."

**oOoOo**

The floor was gritty and hard beneath Tony's cheek again. He opened his eyes to find himself in the same dimly lit room, face-down once more. He had no idea how much time had passed, but there was still light spilling into the room from his too-far-to-reach window.

His foggy brain felt like Jell-O, which was bad for all sorts of reasons. First off, the brain wasn't supposed to have any neurological pain or feeling receptors. Next, the fragile, jiggly feeling in his skull was both nauseating and worrisome. Finally, he hated Jell-O.

The disorienting feeling was a result of the shock that John Morley (yeah, that name had come to him, although Tony was certain he'd never called the guy Wrinkles) had given him with a bastardized version of one of Tony's own inventions.

Two things became readily apparent as he blinked his vision clear and forced the cobwebs out of his mind. One: Morley had gone beyond the engineering creed to embrace his inner lunatic and had obviously fondled and French kissed it into a seriously bad romance. Two: The shock Tony received was a sufficiently powerful electromagnetic shock that it had messed with his heart rate. He had grown used to the occasional irregular beat during the previous seven months. The rapid racing he felt now was a change, and it didn't seem like a good one. There was a metallic taste in his mouth as well. He thought it odd that the metal in question wasn't copper.

_Maybe I won't bleed to death before Clockwork Orange electrocutes me_, he thought. _That's comforting_.

An odd tingling sensation—and not a pleasant one—began to hum throughout his body. It seemed to emanate from his bones. His heart continued racing and the strange taste in his mouth grew stronger as he heard the groan on the aged hinges on the door at the opposite side of the room protest, signaling his next round of _question_ and _I-don't-have-the-answer_ was about to begin.

**oOoOo**


	35. Chapter 35

**oOoOo**

Working with Tony had taught Harley a lot, like: the amazing power of sugar and caffeine on an exhausted mind; the primary difference in the schooling of mechanical engineers verse civil engineers was that one learned to build weapons and the other learned to build targets; accidents could be both valuable and important because they led to great discoveries (such as Teflon, vulcanized rubber and radioactivity); and it was never wise to trust a robot completely unless you programmed it yourself and had no doubts in your abilities.

Along the way, Tony also imparted tidbits of physics and programming that blew Harley's mind, but despite being currently the only living human being to work successfully in a lab as Tony Stark's assistant, Harley didn't know precisely how the guy did what he did. He snatched ideas and answers out of the air like they were passing flies. His mind would stumble upon a possibility, then follow it to a tangent, and the next thing Harley knew they were machining parts for an engine that could run on chlorophyll.

All of that was fascinating and educational, but none of it prepared him for what he was being asked to do.

He stared at the frozen man in the hospital bed. He was shackled to the sides of the bed and an IV snaked into his arm. A med tech manually turned the guy's head and pointed to a metal disc attached near the base of the skull.

"What do you want me to do?" Harley asked.

"Figure out what that is and how to take it off," Sam repeated. "It's some form of nano tech that our guys can't crack."

"You can't ask Tony?" Harley wondered. "I know a bit about his stuff, but I'm not an expert. I actually don't think there are any experts except him."

Sam shook his head and bluntly said Tony was not available for consultation. Telling the kid more would distract him. They needed him to dish what he knew and give them any answers he found—and they needed them fast.

"You can't just rip it out," Harley said. "It's attached to the brain stem. The only reason to do something this monstrous would be to control the guy. Removing it without getting it to retract itself—if it even can do that—will kill him. Do you want to kill him?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "He's one of my guys. I need him back. I need to know what he can tell us about how and where he got that button jammed in his head."

Harley nodded and stated he would need certain tools to start getting a reading on the device. He made no promises and his voice shook a bit along with his hands, but something told him this was important to Tony. If it was important to him, then Harley would give it everything he had.

Sam took down the list of all of Harley's requirements: a laptop, a frequency monitor, a pair of coaxial cables, a USB cable, some wire strippers, electrical tape, and a pair of headphones. A quick nod from Sam sent one of his guys to begin fetching what he could locate. He then gave the kid one final order.

"If you get this off him or if you learn anything he knows before you do, you tell me," Sam ordered. "You don't tell anyone else. You don't go all Rogue One and try to act on that intel alone, you got it?"

Harley nodded feeling the weight and severity of the situation even more deeply.

"I'm also gonna need whatever you've got that's the equivalent of 6 cups of espresso condensed into about six ounces of liquid with about a third of a cup of sugar dissolved in it," Harley said as he leaned close to the man in the bed and peered carefully at the disc attached to the man's head.

**oOoOo**

Lang stumbled upon re-entry at the base. He retracted his helmet and collapsed to his knees. Rhodes was the first to his side.

"Scott?" he demanded. "You okay? Did you do it? Why are you all red and covered in…?"

"Pigeon shit?" Lang nodded and shrugged with an exhausted resignation as his chest heaved with each great breath. "I was attacked. By a bird. A flock of them. Mafia pigeons, I think. They all had eaten some bad Mexican food—that much I'm sure of."

Rhodes stepped back but gave the man a hand up and pulled him to his feet. Lang walked on wobbly knees away from the generator.

"Explain," Rhodes commanded.

"I got to the site early," he said. "I thought the best way to make sure I wasn't seen was to get into position when no one was around, then I would lay low. So I targeted dawn on the day of the big showdown. I figured if I had to break into the building or do a little scaling…"

"Why didn't you just target showing up on the roof like a minute after the blast like we talked about?" Rhodes wondered. "The bracelet can put you down anywhere at any time."

"Hey, I didn't run or program these things the last time," Lang complained. "Tony took care of that. I didn't want to reappear stuck in a ceiling or an air vent during lunch hour because I didn't compensate for Greenwich Mean Time or something. I arrived in an employee parking lot early in the morning and made my way to the roof, which was fine until the pigeons showed up. That's when I had to leave my little hideaway. I was in the sun for a few hours—no sunblock, my bad. I mean, it was nice for a while until I started roasting and then got turning into a Jackson Pollack canvas of pigeon crap."

Rhodes nodded and kept him walking down the hall. He felt for the guy. He had the only intrinsically dangerous mission out of the targets chosen. He was to inject Tony just after the arc reactor blew on the roof of the development building at the Stark complex in LA back in 2008. However, he was supposed to arrive moments after the blast so that he was out of harm's way while Tony tangled with Obadiah. Lang was then to disappear just as suddenly as he arrived, remaining in the past for roughly two minutes as Rhodes had done. His choice to arrive earlier was nearly fatal. Rhodes himself had offered to make that trip, but there was worry the exoskeleton that helped him walk out of his armor might prove a hindrance on the damaged roof. Plus Lang was so eager to go on the mission after having stolen the Pym Particles they needed that the team felt the need to throw him a bone.

"Do you know what those two did on that roof?" Lang gaped.

Rhodes nodded and reminded him that he was on scene not long after the power blew out across half of L.A. from the explosion.

"That big guy, he was firing bullets," Lang said with wide eyes. "Lots of them. Like everywhere. Skipping off the roof, shattering glass. That guy meant to kill Tony. It wasn't just a bad guy trying to get away with being an asshole. That was personal. He trying to murder Tony."

"Yeah, people get like that with Tony sometimes," Rhodes shrugged without any surprise then nodded encouraging the guy to keep talking and get to the important details. "What did you do?"

Lang blinked and looked bewildered at the nonchalant reaction, but a shake of his head and a deep breath helped him focus so he could continue.

"I ducked and hid," Lang said until he spied the man's frustrated expression. "Oh, the syringe part? Right. Well, Tony was unconscious after he got tossed in the air like a ragdoll by the explosion. His left gauntlet was off, just like you said it would be, so I got the rest of the arm metal off and gave him the shot. He didn't even flinch. I thought he was dead. I mean, I knew he wasn't, but he looked it, especially when his chest piece started flickering. Did you know he didn't even have his helmet on when that blast happened?"

"He's got a hard head," Rhodes offered, dismissing the worry. "He was fine-ish afterward… eventually. You definitely gave him the shot?"

Lang nodded then reached into his side pouch and pulled out the empty syringe. Rhodes sighed with relief. That meant two were done. They just needed Cap and Strange to return with similar reports, which he hoped and expected they would do any moment.

"How about you?" Lang asked him. "You do yours?"

"Cakewalk," he nodded. "Tony was right where I remembered leaving him. One shot in the thigh and boom I was gone—there and back in seconds in our time. Want to know something funny? I'm sitting here, waiting for the rest of you to get back, and I was remembering walking Tony back to his dorm that night to get ice for that bump on his head. Now, I swear he spent the whole trip complaining to me that his leg hurt."

"Where are Captain Rogers and Dr. Strange?" Lang asked as he looked back at the generator.

"Back any second," Rhodes said. "I hope."

**oOoOo**

**Location**: _Stark Mansion, Glen Cove, NY_

**Age**:_17_

The syringe duo appeared on Long Island again—this time 13 years later than their last visit. The mansion looked mostly the same. This time there was a Rolls Royce out front; the manicured gardens had different colored flowers, but the fountain still sprayed majestically in the summer air. A soft ocean breeze floated off the shore front property on the other side of the immense house.

"And we're baaaack," Strange muttered, parking their stolen car—this one a Saab convertible—behind the shiny Rolls.

"You really should have shaved," Cap said.

"Why?" Strange asked. "I'd feel naked."

"The last time we were here, you're the one who diagnosed Tony with a photographic memory," Cap reminded him.

"He's eidetic actually and I was talking about his musical skills only," Strange huffed. "But so what? He's got a sharp memory. So do I."

"Would you remember a face you've seen three times now?" Cap asked. "You're the one who said he has a photographic memory."

"Had," Strange corrected him. "He was eidetic as a child. Most children grow out of that to a large degree. I'm a rare case and didn't."

He smiled smugly but got only a huff of impatience from his partner.

"I don't think he retained a photographic memory," Strange said, citing his objections for altering his appearance. "Tony didn't use the parlor trick of a good memory to get through engineering school. He's legitimately talented in building and creating things that move or explode. His mind is focused on results, not things from the past. So, my face won't stick out in his mind. After all, infants don't see all that well. The toddler visit we did was 13 years ago in his recollection. He was doped to the gills when we saw him in the ER, which for him was five years ago. Frankly, he's more apt to remember you than he is me."

"I'm counting on him not having paid much attention to the old guy with no distinguishing features," Cap smiled.

"Yeah, but you're the one always stabbing him with a needle," Strange countered. "Pain helps encode memory. Tony seems like the kind of guy who holds grudges."

Cap huffed but did not say what his thoughts were on that.

"Your goatee is more memorable," Cap assured him. "I think you should sit this one out just in case. Seeing one of us again might not trigger any memory, but both of us together might. We're nearly done, and I don't want to mess this up so late in the plan."

Strange flapped his hands relented then agreed to wait in the car. He was growing weary from the quantum jumps and was concerned how Cap was holding up. Back in their actual time, they would have been gone just a few moments, but by Strange's tally, they'd been in the past for hours already with no food and no rest while sustaining the pressure and fatigue that accompanied quantum jumps. He had already suggested taking a break to let both of their systems recharge before tackling their final leaps. He was certain he could handle them, but his colleague was looking worn; however, the old soldier's stubbornness and sense of mission would not allow him to deviate from the plan.

Cap was not in favor of letting even one more moment slip by just to make things easier on them. Tony's life depended on executing this plan swiftly. If Lang and Rhodes had been successful with their journeys, the treatment would be done soon. The team wouldn't know if they had accomplished what they hoped until Tony was actually found, but their work in the past was his only chance.

Putting thoughts of taking a rest out of his mind, Cap approached the door. As with his last visit, he rang the bell. This time, the woman who answered was older and had a Spanish accent. She beckoned him in when he explained why he was there. She nodded but rather than summon Tony, she walked to a room tucked under the sweeping stair case just off the foyer. She emerged a moment later with Howard.

Cap swallowed and narrowed his eyes for lack of any other means to disguise his face. He realized it was a foolish worry as he did it. Howard had last seen him 50 years earlier looking young and virile. The silver-haired, wrinkled gentleman before him bore no obvious resemblance to the man Howard believed died in a plane crash in 1945.

"I'm sorry," Cap said, intentionally lowering his voice. "I'm here to see Tony Stark. I'm from Dr. Constantine's office. I'm one of his associates, Dr. Barnes."

The name jumped to mind and was over his lips before he could stop it. Howard cocked his head to the side and smiled as he nodded.

"You from the area?" he asked.

"No, Brooklyn," Cap replied automatically and tried to hide his wince at saying it.

"Brooklyn?" Howard grinned. "You said your name was Barnes? Any relation to Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes from the WWII unit the Howling Commandos? He was from Brooklyn. I did some work with him and his unit during the war."

Cap merely shook his head and looked away stating he'd been medically disqualified for military service. His stomach clenched briefly as the idea of talking to a man about the person who would later be the device that brought about his ending while in that man's home was a tad uncomfortable. Instead of dwelling in the troubling thoughts, Cap launched into a brief explanation for his visit.

"A vaccination?" Howard growled as his jaw tightened. "He was supposed to get all that taken care of last week."

"He did," Cap replied. "This was an oversight on our office's part."

"Oversight, my ass," Howard grumbled. "Don't cover for him. My son skipped out on something he was supposed to do probably to do something he'd rather do, whatever her name was."

Rather than wait for more information, Howard stalked to the foot of the stairs and shouted toward the upper floor.

"Tony!" he bellowed. "Get down here. Now!"

Cap waited patiently, keeping his face bland and his posture relaxed. He hadn't counted on Howard being at home. From his testy attitude, it did not seem like he wanted to be there either. When there was no instant reply to his summons, the man walked to the wall and stabbed a button beside a light switch.

"Tony, I'm summoning you," Howard said sternly. "Take off those damn headphones and get down here."

There was a crackling sound followed by other muffled noises from the speaker of the intercom.

"Did someone call me?" Tony's voice, younger but recognizable, replied.

"Not just someone," Howard answered succinctly.

"Dad?" the voice was stunned and disbelieving. "Any chance you rigged this thing to work from your office or the Pentagon?"

"You have 10 seconds to appear downstairs," Howard said.

"So, you're home," the teenager hedged.

"Tony," Howard said firmly. "Quit stalling. I don't have time for your screwing around."

Another muffled sound followed by a click echoed in the room.

"Grumble all you want," Howard warned. "I can still hear you."

The reaction to that comment didn't come through the speaker. Instead, a teenager with black hair, a spindly frame, tanned skin, and a shocked expression trotted down the stairs.

"Ah, but you don't understand Italian," Tony offered with a smirk.

His thick, dark hair was falling into his eyes. He wore a pair of dark rimmed glasses, faded jeans, and a concert T-shirt, while a pair of headphones rested around his neck.

"Living with your mother, I've picked up a few words," Howard replied.

"Probably not the same ones," Tony shrugged then looked at his father's displeased expression. "Then again, maybe… I didn't know you were here. You're home early."

For the briefest of seconds, there was a smile on his face and a tremor of happiness in his voice. It was heartbreaking for Cap to see all of that vanish in a snap as the teen's eyes landed on the travel bag resting on the floor near the door.

"You're leaving town?" Tony asked as he registered what the bag meant. "Today?"

He asked the question like a small child. He blinked in shock. There was clear worry in the question and anticipated resignation in the answer from the immediate sigh he issued as his father responded with an affirmative grunt.

The change to Tony's face was unmistakable. His chin dipped. His mouth flattened. His inky eyes got distant, and his posture grew rigid as he folded his arms.

"Who's he?" Tony asked coldly as he jerked his head toward their visitor. He hung back on the steps, not fully descending the staircase while maintaining distance from his father.

"He's the doctor I'm apparently paying a lot to cover your negligence," Howard said. "You skipped your appointment and didn't get the vaccines you need to travel tomorrow."

"No, that's not true," Tony argued. "I went. They didn't say I needed any shots."

"That's not what he says," Howard replied jerking his thumb at Cap.

"You're going to take the word of a…," Tony began then paused and looked at the man standing in front of him. "Do I know you? You look familiar."

"I'm on staff at North Shore Hospital," Cap offered. "Perhaps I've seen you in the area over the years. This shouldn't take but a minute. It's one vaccine. The error was on the office's part. We're very sorry for the inconvenience."

Cap launched into the cover story Strange helped him concoct: The State Department was requesting all US citizens traveling to Germany or Switzerland be vaccinated against an outbreak of swine flu occurring in those countries. Tony scrunched his brow in doubt and made no move to acquiesce to the request for him to expose his arm for the injection. He turned to his father to appeal.

Howard, testy for reasons that certainly had nothing to do with a vaccine, eyed his son sternly and gestured toward the room where he was when Cap first arrived. Tony ducked his head and walked there as silently directed. The door to the room closed somewhat but remained sufficiently ajar for Cap to overhear the tense discussion.

"I don't ask much of you," Howard began, "because you never do what you're supposed to do."

"Dad, I did," Tony defended. "I got the physical as required. They said I didn't need any vaccines. I didn't skip anything."

"Tony, there's a doctor standing in the foyer who says differently," Howard argued. "You want to be taken seriously, then you have to act seriously. You want to screw around, play games, and be irresponsible, then call I'll Amaldi's office right now and tell him you're staying here and not working with his team."

"No, don't," Tony barked. "I'm telling you the truth. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're irresponsible and do as you please without a care or regard to any consequences," his father said. "You asked to have a few people over for a going away party two days ago. I came home the other night and found 50 people here."

"I know a lot of people," Tony replied. "That 50 was a few of them."

"You have no respect for boundaries," Howard continued.

"MIT encourages the expansion of horizons and dismantling boundaries," the son replied petulantly.

"MIT doesn't own this house," Howard said flatly. "Nor do you. When I'm dead and gone, you can do what you please, but for now you're 17 and will do what I tell you to do. You don't get to make any decisions without clearing them through me or your mother. You are to do as we say. We told you to go to your doctor's appointment. If I had known you needed your mother to hold your hand to…"

"Dad, I didn't skip anything," Tony insisted. "Dr. AARP out there just said it was his office's fault, not mine. Besides, it's just Swine Flu, not the Bubonic Plague. If I get sick, I'll crawl into bed at my apartment, hire a nurse named Heidi, and be better in a week… maybe two if she's really cute."

Howard grumbled a few words Cap could not hear but that were surely not in agreement with his son's assessment of the situation or proposed solution.

"The Spanish flu pandemic killed at least 30 million worldwide people when I was a baby," Howard preached. "I was lucky to survive. Steve Rogers nearly succumbed to it and was left with scarred lungs and stunted growth for the next 24 years of his life."

Tony walked out of the room as the comment was made. His back was to his father, but Cap could see both of them clearly. Howard's face was hard and disappointed. Tony rolled his eyes as he made a face and silently mouthed the words _Steve Rogers_ in a childishly mocking fashion.

"So," the teenager scoffed as he looked over his shoulder at his father, "because Europeans don't know how to cover their mouths when they cough and wash their hands to combat the flu, I have to get jabbed by Dr. Jekyll the Crypt Keeper? How is that fair to me?"

"Maybe the Swiss heard you can be a prick so they thought you should get to feel what that's like before landing on their doorstep," Howard sniped.

"I think I'm a delight," Tony scoffed. "So does your wife."

"You overestimate your charm," Howard informed him. "And your mother has a soft spot for difficult people no one else loves."

Tony did not flinch at the comment, but the slightest contraction of his eyes told the tale. The remark hit a sensitive spot, but there was apparently no surprise at hearing it nor the pang of pain it caused.

"Any perceived deficits are made up by my wit, cunning, and guile," Tony countered deftly. "Or so it says in the latest edition of…"

"You're wasting everyone's time," Howard growled cutting him off. "Now, get your damn shots like you were supposed to last week. Honestly, Tony, the world doesn't run on your schedule."

"Not yet," he replied with belligerence creeping into his tone. "That's a detriment to the rest of you, by the way. My schedule has always worked out perfectly for me."

The fight pained Cap. He had caused it, and it was apparent to him what was truly behind it. Tony was leaving the next day. He had just discovered his father was leaving in advance of that. It seemed fairly obvious that Howard had meant to leave without letting his son know or even bidding him farewell. Regardless of whatever friction there was between the two men, it was equally apparent that Tony craved his father's attention and approval. When he couldn't get anything positive from the man, he resorted to what he could get: negative attention. He had bated his father simply for a reaction.

"You know what would have happened if I talked to my old man that way?" Howard asked as he walked toward his bag and stared fixedly at his watch.

"No, because you've always portrayed him as such a humanitarian that I can't imagine him having a reaction that involved a belt," Tony muttered sullenly.

"I don't tell you those things to hear myself talk," Howard complained. "I want you to know how good you have it."

"Oh, we're doing to lessons in _good_?" Tony countered then hit himself in the forehead with his flattened palm. "No wonder I was lost. Those usually start with the phrase '_you know, Steve Rogers used to blah, blah, blah_…' All you did this time was mention he was a wussy asthmatic until you helped make him the paragon of perfection."

"You're out of line," Howard wagged his finger at his son. "You could learn a lot from the life of Steve Rogers."

Tony looked at his shoes and grounded his toe into the polished marble floor.

"Like how to drop off the face of the earth so maybe you'd give a damn?" he grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Howard asked.

"Nothing," Tony replied.

"I thought so," Howard nodded as he started toward the door. "Now, take your shots like a man. You tell me you're mature enough to take off for Europe on your own, but you stand here stalling and bitching about a little shot like a five-year-old. I don't want to hear any more about it. Get it done."

"Yes, sir," Tony said stiffly.

Howard paused in his departure. He looked briefly at his son like there was something more he wanted to say but could not bring himself to do it. Instead, he scowled then gave Cap a stern look like he wanted to yell at him for just being there.

"Doc, you gonna break out the needles here or not?" Howard said then nodded at his son, who stood sulking near the stairway. "Sullen is as close to docile and standing still as you can get with him. Tony, your mother expects you to here for dinner. That means you are here tonight with her—all night, no taking off to see anyone and no visitors. You've got a 6 a.m. flight tomorrow."

"It's our plane," Tony said listlessly. "I'm not tied to an airline schedule."

"It's _my_ plane," Howard replied.

"I designed it," Tony countered.

"You designed some of it," Howard corrected.

"Ninety percent," Tony grumbled.

"Well, I paid for 100 percent of it, and I said it leaves at 6," Howard said with finality.

"Right," Tony nodded then saluted mockingly. "Out of your hair at sunrise, sir. Any chance you'll be home before that, or will you be with your mistress, the Pentagon, for the entire night?"

"I've got meetings this evening," Howard said.

"Of course you do," Tony nodded and plastered a phony smile on his face. "So, see you in December it is."

Howard scowled then departed without a good bye or any indication that he would be home to see his son off the next morning. Cap waited patiently until the teenager acknowledged him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Tony blustered. "Go ahead and stab me. Hey, if he paid you to be extra harsh, I'll double it for you not to do that."

"I've done this a few times so it shouldn't be too bad," Cap assured him as he reached into his bag. "Going on vacation?"

He removed the syringe and the swab. Tony offered his arm with a hint of disdain.

"If by vacation you mean leaving this prison, yes," he said. "Switzerland for six months."

"I think I read a magazine article about you—suma cum laude graduate at MIT just a couple months ago," Cap remarked.

"Look, he's gone so you can knock off the friendly family doctor routine," Tony scoffed. "Sucking up to me or acting impressed wouldn't have scored points with him anyway so save your breath and drop the act."

"I was just making conversation," Cap remarked as he finished the shot. "I read that you studied engineering and will go to work for your father's company someday."

"More like I'm expected to, but I don't always do what's expected," Tony grinned mischievously. "I've got a lot of offers. We'll see what my father puts on the table when we have contract negotiations after Christmas."

He looked proud and ready to challenge the man who had just departed. Cap nodded, feeling for the kid who would lose his father before the end of the year and only see him for about two minutes again the rest of his life.

Cap left the house and felt amazingly drained by both the tense situation he had just witnessed and the guilt he felt over triggering it. He knew it was pointless to feel badly about it. Tony and Howard had 17 years of rough seas between them but hearing his own name batted about in their argument did strike a nerve for the old soldier. Tony had told Cap once how much he hated him because his father constantly brought up the World War II hero in conversation. To see the raw feelings Tony had, Cap did consider it impressive that Tony resisted the urge to punch him until their throw down in Siberia.

Cap got into the car and wilted instantly in the seat. Strange looked at him critically and shook his head.

"You're done," he said. "You're going back now. Doctor's orders."

"We have two more to do," Cap insisted.

"You're more than 100 years old and traveling through the quantum realm is extreme punishment on the body," Strange pointed out. "Even I'm feeling drained. Look, you'll be a hindrance on the last stop anyway. I think it's best that I go as myself. I have staff privileges at that hospital so no one will question me. His thoracic surgeon is David Haruta. We're friends. I'll call him and asked to look in. No assistance needed. Tony will be sedated so he won't see me or know he's getting an injection."

"Fine, you do that and I'll do the 2012 stop on my own," Cap agreed. "The one in the lobby at Stark Tower is simple."

Strange sighed but agreed. There was plenty of chaos in the building that day from his briefing. Cap was present on site—in two forms (his 2012 self and his 2023 self). Throwing another one into the mix could be considered risky, but at least two of the three Caps knew about time travel. One was also incognito as someone other than Captain America.

"Be conveniently close by when Tony collapses," Strange advised, handing Cap the medical kit they had stashed in the car in case a prop was needed. "We know Tony survives that little stunt with Lang dislodging one of the contacts in his reactor, but you'll only have a few seconds before he goes into full cardiac arrest. Thor's tap will save him no matter what, but sink needle first. Then tell Hammer Time the patient needs a jolt. Melt into the crowd as quickly as you can then hop back to the base. Rhodes and Lang should be there as well if we haven't screwed this up."

"I'll see you soon," Cap nodded formally.

"That's the plan," Strange sighed.

Both men dialed their GPS bands to the proper dates and times then took a deep breath and vanished on the spot.

**oOoOo**

Ghost (or the Spandex Nutjob as Tony now thought of him) wasn't convinced Tony either wouldn't or couldn't help him. Not that it mattered. It was evident guy enjoyed torture. Whether it was physical pain caused by his handy-dandy pocket Taser or mentally inflicting wounds, the guy was dedicated to his craft.

Tony was sitting up with his back against the wall, propped up there by his captor so he wouldn't slump to the floor. For as disagreeable as Tony's ornery outlook wanted him to be, not all of his resistance was calculated. Half of the time, he simply couldn't hear what the man asked him as a high pitched sound kept flooding his ears at moments when his heart was throbbing so loudly in them that he would have missed a helicopter landing in the room. However, when the internal noises stopped, his warden's voice rang unfortunately with extreme, vicious clarity with his threats.

"The almost-famous Mr. Hogan is a wonderfully dim target," he said. "I could cut some brake lines to dispatch him, but I'd rather watch him suffer, too. I would wait until he is playing nanny to your beloved daughter, then slit her throat in front of him. After that, I would take from you the one you held so close for so long: the feisty and currently maternally voluptuous Ms. Potts. I would carve your child from her womb and let her watch it struggle and die while she bled out beside it. All of these I would record and play back for you, but then what would be the point in killing you? You would then beg me to kill you, and I would be obliged not to just to prolong your suffering. Instead, I will make you suffer now by not knowing if I will do it once you are gone so that you know there is nothing you can do to protect them. Until I am done with you, you'll be locked here with no way to stop me and nothing but your worst fears as company. You have no way to break free. No way of knowing whether your arrogance has doomed the only people who ever were stupid enough to care for you. I will enjoy every second of that."

Tony shook with rage. If not for the lack of strength in his limbs, he'd have launched himself at the man and let his hands and feet do whatever damage they could manage absent his armor. But in his semi-paralytic state, all he could do was stare listlessly at his tormentor and fight the images his brutal words conjured in his mind. The only way to survive, he knew, was simply not to react outwardly. Give the man no power. Make him feel like he failed. Force him to rethink his plans. The longer he remained in doubt, the longer those Tony loved would be safe. Someone was surely looking for him; he told himself he needed to believe someone would look for him, find him, and deal with lunatic in leotards before he got his hands on whatever remained of Tony's family.

"Or?" Tony mustered the strength and will to pose the question without his voice sounding desperate and shrill with terror.

"What?" Ghost snarled.

"Generally in these situations," Tony scoffed, "this is the part where the mega-maniacal freak in the mask—that'd be you—gives the target of his unfounded rage—_moi_—an ultimatum. It's in the movie contract, in the fine print, like on page 12. You rave how you'll do all this stuff that proves what everyone believes about you—namely that you're a pathetic, twisted, freak the world overlooked with good reason—_unless_…? See, you need to feed me the next line so I know where we are in the script."

"I want the formula," Ghost said simply.

"The Caramilk formula?" Tony offered a weak shrug. "Never knew it."

"The formula, Stark," Ghost persisted.

"Drawing a blank here," Tony huffed. "What formula? Formula One racing? Formula 409? Love Potion Number 9? What exactly are you looking for?"

"The formula you've hidden from the world since the year you inherited everything," Ghost asserted.

"Inherited?" Tony repeated and chuckled mirthlessly. "That year? Yeah, that was actually the year I lost everything: my mother, my father, my virginity even. Well, technically that last one was in the year prior because it was before midnight on New Year's Eve so…"

"Abraham Esrkine," Ghost seethed.

"No, her name was Lucy," Tony shook his head. "She was an older woman, age 18, student at Julliard studying dance. Dancers… they are remarkably flexible—that's not a myth."

"Your father reconstituted Erskine's formula for creating Captain America!" Ghost snapped. "I want it!"

"I don't have it, and my father wasn't a chemist," Tony disagreed. "He was an engineer. He built engines and weapons, but he never cracked the recipe for how to make a super soldier. You want one, ask the Russians. They harbored Hydra after World War II. Ask them how to make cyborgs."

"You don't even know why Hydra killed him," Ghost chuckled.

"Uh, they're the bad guys," Tony offered. "It's kind of what they do."

Ghost laughed coldly and spun a tale about a spy letting Hydra know that Howard Stark had discovered the formula and made the serum. They knew he was transporting it to his colleagues in Washington so a hitman was sent to take it and take him out to keep him from replicating (or improving upon) their nearly immortal, unstoppable assassins.

"Hydra took his life to take his serum," Ghost reported. "I've read the dispatches. They analyzed what he synthesized then tried to reverse engineer it to see where he succeeded and they failed. They couldn't fully dissect it and destroyed the composition in the process of researching it. Their own attempts at recreating what Erskine did had many side effects. Such uncontrollable rage."

Tony scoffed and he lifted his heavy head.

"I'm betting you took a shot or two from that bottle," he remarked but was ignored.

"As you assert, your father was an engineer," Ghost continued. "Engineers document their work. That's how I know he wrote it down. If SHIELD did not have it—and we can agree they did not or they would have used it—then that means they never found it. He evidently left it some place he could find it, but they could not. Where did he hide things, Tony?"

In response, Tony merely glared back defiantly but afraid anything he said (even a smartass quip) might give something away. In truth, his father did hide things. He was ingenious and hid things in plain sight. He made them invisible by making them innocuous. He made them secure but putting no security on them so they drew no notice whatsoever as anything important. It struck Tony in that moment it was not so different from how the man treated his only son: ignored, unimportant, and irrelevant.

Tony shook his head and focused on the issue in front of him (although his realization about his father did bring him some odd comfort). He thought instead of the genius of his father. The man stashed the structure of a new element he deduced existed but was unable to find on Earth (or synthesize due to technology limitations) in the design mockup of a futuristic city. There it remained for more than 20 years, on display in old photos of the original Stark Expo of the early 1970s and later used as a piece of artwork that collected dust Tony's office at Stark Industries. It truly was mad scientist kind of crazy. _Dad, you were the best_, Tony thought.

"Tell me," Ghost insisted placing his face menacingly close to Tony's and interrupting his thoughts.

"Try Fort Knox," he replied after a pause he worried was too long. "Dad's was the government's bitch back then. Whatever he did, they got their hands on."

Ghost clucked his tongue condescendingly as he shook his head beneath his silver shroud.

"You lie," he replied. "Your father was more than an engineer. He was also a spy."

"He worked with spies," Tony said defensively. "He wasn't one himself."

"There's a difference?" Ghost chuckled. "Those who suffered and died because of the weapons you created call you a butcher, a terrorist, and a mass murderer. You never pulled a trigger. You never launched a missile at a town, yet you shut down your weapons manufacturing. Why? Because they were wrong about you? Or because you were a part of the deadly industry you helped foster and guilty as charged? You are what you surround yourself with."

"So that makes you the King of Lycra?" Tony wondered only to have his neck snap painfully sideways as he received a solid backhand across his cheek.

"Your father was as dangerous and evil as the organizations he tried to fight—that's why I admire him," Ghost said as he offered an eerie, out-of-place chuckle. "Howard Stark came from nothing—just like me. He built a fortune by his ingenuity and his guile—as I did. Unlike me, he was not truly gifted. He was merely greedy. He was little more than an opportunist and capitalist. By his own admission, he never let the greater good get in the way of his own self-interest."

The words rang in Tony's head like an alarm as his head began to swim, and the distinct taste of copper filled his mouth. Images, like a powerful dream that had been lost upon waking, stormed into his mind and flooded his thoughts. He could see his father standing in front of him on an army base, telling him about his fears of being a father, yet his eagerness to do whatever he could for his unborn child.

"How do you know he said?" Tony gasped as his chest began to feel tight and breathing became difficult. "I was the only one there."

"You were always such a waste of his time," Ghost moaned. "He could have done and been so much more, but there was you, in his way, stopping him from attaining greatness. Your very existence made him weak, and he knew it. That makes you his least impressive accomplishment, his single point of failure."

Tony's vision grew cloudy at the edges as darkness began to invade. His shoulders ached from the tension in them and although his limbs were numb, merciless shots of pain raced up them and fire crawled along the walls of his veins. All he could think was that he'd be so happy to be waking up in that Afghani cave again, yet his mind instead locked onto the picture of a U.S. Army base and a middle aged man in a mustache carrying flowers and a carton of sauerkraut.

"I don't know anything about a formula," Tony's voice rushed out of him breathless and weak. "My father left clues for an element, not a formula."

"Your father left you everything," Ghost insisted.

"No, he just left me," Tony mumbled with blood bubbling over his lips. "Obie took over some of the business. I thought the lawyers took over everything else. I didn't even know about my mother's jewelry until February."

"I don't care about a dead bitch's pearls," Ghost shouted in his face. "Where is the formula?"

"Ask Bruce Banner," Tony muttered as he felt himself drifting from the world.

"Dr. Banner is a lab accident that proves he never had the formula!"

"I've told you everything," Tony mumbled.

He couldn't feel his face, wasn't even full sure if his eyes were open, but he hoped he was grinning because everything he said was true. He wasn't the most virtuous person to ever live, but at least he wasn't a liar.

He also finally knew that he wasn't the man that for months he feared he was.

_My bad, Pep_, Tony thought while his head lolled to the side and he felt like he was being dragged underwater by mighty waves. _I should always just trust what you tell me._

**oOoOo**


	36. Chapter 36

**oOoOo**

The hurry up and wait feeling of Camp Delta made Barton's skin crawl. Leaving his family was a hard choice, but his wife and kids assured him all was well. They had adjusted just fine to returning after their disappearance. There were a few weeks of uncertainty at the start, but they were not alone in that feeling. Being back together as a family made the transition easier. Explaining to his family how he spent the prior five years was not easily done (and not something Barton fully explained to his kids). Telling them their Aunt Nat wasn't coming back was harder still.

Just when he was back in his groove (one that no longer included an ankle monitor), he had a visitor. Seeing one of Fury's lieutenants at his door wasn't precisely unexpected. He had been summoned to duty without warning in the past. What he didn't expect was the reason given for his activation. He felt a little sore about how (and from whom) he received it as well. Barton kept his lips sealed during the briefings, but as his time at the base lingered without any action, he felt he no longer could keep quiet.

He walked into the lab to find Banner staring fixedly at a computer monitor, chewing his lip, and looking as harried as ever (an even more impressive sight given his immense green stature).

"I thought you had guests," Barton remarked.

"Uh, they were here a second ago," he shrugged unconcerned. "They'll be back, I'm sure."

"Whatever," Barton remarked. "I'm only going to say this once. I get the sealed lips act all these months from Rhodes and Wilson—they're good soldiers—but you, my friend, you owe me an apology."

"Huh?" Banner looked up from his work. "What did you say?"

"No, it's more what didn't you say," Barton continued. "I expected better of you, Bruce."

"What did I do?"

"Again, it's more what didn't you do," he persisted. "I ignored my email for months because, well, no one uses email any more. So, did I miss a text or a call when I didn't respond to your message to '_give you a call about something_' I think is how you put it?"

"From me?" Banner shook his head. "No. I haven't texted you or called you… at all… ever."

"Which is kind of my point," Barton said. "Sending me a brief email to '_call about something_' is a level of professional vagueness I don't expect from a scientist. So, for future reference, should one of us get ever resurrected again, you pick up the phone. Got it?"

Banner hung his head. For security reasons, he had not used the more direct form of communication prior to Easter when he began reaching out to members of the team regarding Tony. He'd sent an email to Barton only. It was an uninformative message. It sounded neither interesting nor urgent. For a guy who once tore through his clothing and smashed whatever got in his way, the blended Bruce/Hulk duo was not into drama or excitement.

"I didn't know what to say, and I wasn't allowed to actually say much," Banner apologized. "It was a close-hold situation. I figured you didn't reach out to me because you needed space from all of us and were spending time with your family."

"My family is more than just my wife and kids," Barton replied. "Tony was always a pain in the ass, but he was our pain in the ass."

His voice was tight along with his face, and Banner knew the man's mind had raced back to that horrible moment on the battlefield just 10 miles away where they'd lost their teammate. Barton had been the first to react upon realizing what had happened. He'd instantly lowered his bow, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head in sorrow. Soon after, their fellow warriors (enhanced, alien, and royalty alike) followed suit to honor a man who was the most human among them.

"I'm sorry," Banner said. "I didn't think like that. You and Tony never seemed close so I didn't follow up. I just figured you got my message and didn't want to be involved with anything we had going on. I didn't judge you for it."

"Did Tony?"

Banner shrugged and sighed. The answer was not precisely yes. He explained that Tony had resisted letting his presence be known. A leading reason was the many questions that surrounded his arrival (and the fact they wrongly thought he wasn't their Tony). There was more to his hesitation, though. In his memory, the Avengers were a defunct group that was torn apart after the Sokovia Accords. He had no recollection of them coming together again after remembering why they had formed a team and done so much good previously. Barton's sharp eyes skewered Banner and let him know the answer wasn't sufficient.

"Fine, he didn't think anyone would care to know he was back," Banner revealed. "I never told him that I reached out to you."

"So he thought you got everyone else there but somehow forgot to summon me?"

"I don't know what he thought," Banner replied. "He didn't say. I didn't ask. Maybe he figured you were just busy with your family. That he would understand so he didn't know if you chose to stay away or were never told about him."

Barton nodded accepting the answer because it fit with what he knew of Tony. Barton never counted himself among the legions of fans Tony had around the world, but he also never got rubbed quite the wrong way by Tony the way others on the team did. There was friction, and that was to be expected, in Barton's opinion. Tony wasn't like most of them. He wasn't a soldier or an agent. He didn't live in the shadows. He was a civilian—a well-known, attention seeking, spotlight grabbing, inventor of toys that went boom. He wasn't always a fan of Tony's choices or how he could throw around his financial and political clout. He didn't come from a humble beginning and do the bootstraps pull up so many others did. The difference between Barton and others was that he never blamed Tony for that or held it against him. In fact, from what Barton knew of Howard Stark (after working with SHIELD and hearing the tales of what an unpleasable bastard he was), growing up in as the man's only child obviously wasn't summer camp.

Barton didn't pity Tony growing up the rich kid, but he did feel for anyone whose father never gave him the time of day. Considering the legend of Howard Stark, Tony was actually strikingly different than his old man. Tony did wield influence because of his money and connections, but he was knowing for his generosity with both. And he was never stingy with doling out the fruits of his genius ideas to his teammates. He built them a base on land he owned. He funded much of the operation—not out of his company's coffers but out his own money that was separate from the funds of Stark Industries. He built the team the transportation, the weapons, and the other helpful toys they needed. The price was just putting up with his magpie-like chatter, perpetual sense of intellectual superiority, and occasionally overbearing personality.

Barton didn't always agree with Tony's opinions or choices, but he also saw Tony differently than the rest. His sharp gaze honed in on more than just the exterior observations of the guy. Barton saw the chinks in Tony's armor—not the metal one but the personality he put on display to hide his biggest secret. Seeing those gave Barton a different perspective. It never surprised him that Tony was the one who flew the nuke into space when Loki tried to take over New York; the surprise attack scared Tony, and he just wanted the chaos to end. It didn't surprise him that Tony tried to protect the world using his programming and accidentally created Ultron; the guy got freaked out by a vision Wanda gave him that showed how fragile they were so he panicked and tried to use the only means he knew to make the planet a safe haven. It also didn't surprise Barton that Tony favored signing the Sokovia Accords; he didn't trust himself (or anyone with access to the power of the Avengers) after Ultron, and he thought making the team answer to a governing body outside of themselves would keep them from becoming as bad as the factions the team had to fight.

Everyone one of those disasters was a beacon pointing to the most obvious piece of the Tony Stark puzzle in Barton's view: the guy's fear. He saw Tony for what he was: a trauma survivor who never fully healed from the terror he experienced. That resulted in predictable (if highly technological) protectionist behavior. It wasn't until after Barton finally rejoined the team after years of vengeance following the snap that he realized he'd made one horribly inaccurate judgement about Tony.

He always assumed that someone with that much money and that many connections was getting the help he needed to deal with his mental wounds and was just damn good at keeping it completely secret. Tony put on such a believable act of handling everything despite his terror that even Barton's highly observant eyes were fooled. He knew the damage was there. He just thought it was being properly tended rather than profusely glossed over. When the end came on the battlefield, when Barton realized what Tony had done and what it cost him, the archer fell instantly to his knee. In that painful moment, he hoped Tony finally found the only thing his money and influence could never buy but also only thing he truly needed in his heart and soul: peace.

"I would have come if I had known," Barton revealed after a moment.

"He never said a word about you being absent," Banner said. "He was actually a little bothered by seeing everyone. He doesn't remember the battle and thought everyone was just feeling guilty about what happened. He made it pretty clear that he didn't begrudge anyone for not grabbing the stones. I wish he could have remembered what we did—not the battle itself—but the work we did when we pulled together before it. Steve told him everything was good between all of us, but… I don't know if he believe that entirely. Tony and Steve, you know how that could be sometimes."

Barton nodded. There were some deep issues between Tony and Cap, and Barton was certain the team didn't know all the details for the origins. Certainly they came from different backgrounds and had different temperaments. Cap was a team player and leader. Tony was someone who never relied on anyone but himself, the quintessential loner who followed his own path because he forged new territory everywhere he went. Beyond their personal traits, there were also some tangled roots that led back to Tony's father—Barton was certain of that because in his experience, only family connections could create that kind of friction between people. Their clashes were never quite strategic differences about power over the team as whole or who was the leader. It was a question of style and execution rather than motives and outcomes.

Barton remembered sitting in a cell as Tony got to walk free after half the team was captured in Germany. Barton blamed him at the time, but Tony rightly pointed out that Barton knew what he was doing; knew the risk he was taking and that he was breaking the law. He'd known there could be a consequence. That Tony didn't want his teammates jailed didn't matter to Barton at the time. The guy was free so Barton wrote him off as the source of the problem. That day was the last time they spoke until five years after the snap. Whether Tony knew what Barton had spent his time doing never came up. Tony just nodded to him when he returned to the base then got to work. So the bottom line for Barton was that: the work. Tony's skills gave the team the ability to go back in time, get the stones, and allow Bruce to return everyone who was lost. That brought back Barton's family. To him, creating the means to allow that cleared all past actions that generated any animosity.

Besides, Barton knew he would be a hypocrite to hold a grudge. The day he met Tony was the same day he'd had been freed from Loki's mind control. Barton had just attacked SHIELD and disabled the helicarrier. Tony had to fly into the turbines to get the thing working again so it wouldn't fall out of the sky and kill all of them. That was, Barton realized years later, one of Tony's superpowers. He didn't generally hold grudges. He seemed to know that making mistakes was part of life (perhaps because he made many himself) and that they happened one needed to find a path to keep moving forward. So, despite knowing what Barton had just done at Loki's behest, the first thing Tony did upon meeting Barton wasn't to show him distrust or question his reliability. Instead, he tagged Barton with a nickname then ask him for strategic advice on taking out the invaders.

Years of observing the guy told a different story than all the news clips and headlines. His best friend was Rhodes, a trained warrior, a genuine standup guy, and someone to be trusted in battle. Tony and Rhodes had been as close as brothers since they were in school. That alone told Barton there was more to the guy than the billionaire persona who could just throw money at problems to solve them. There was also the amazing woman who chose to be by his side. Pepper Potts was a savvy, caring woman who genuinely loved Tony. That assured Barton the man was more than just a playboy. There was also Nat and her dealings with the genius in the metal suit. She told Barton that there was more to Tony than the pop culture icon in the headlines. Barton had observed Tony rile, annoy, and frustrated Nat's—not unlike the way his own sons bothered their sister. The most telling point from their interaction was that Nat never once attempted to strangle Tony or snap any of his bones, which she could have done easily on numerous occasions. In fact, she'd never even laid a hand on him in anger. She had a special smirk only for Tony because the guy knew how to playfully get under her skin and did so without fear.

"He was wrong to think we wouldn't want to see him," Barton said after a long pause.

"In his mind, with his missing memories, there was no team anymore," Banner reminded him. "To him, the Avengers were broken up and half of the team blamed him for that. It makes sense he would think he wasn't on anyone's Christmas card list."

Barton thought of the previous five years and all that he had done. He'd become a vigilante who killed/murdered/executed more people than he dared count. No one had judged him or punished him for doing what he thought protected the world. He had done so absent any right or authority. He did it purposefully just to end the lives of his targets because he decided on his own that they deserved to die, yet no one had laid blame on him; no one had called him a monster.

"After all we've done together," Barton said, "the guy should have felt like his team had his back."

"I wasn't here for what happened between all of you, but Clint he was blamed—I know that's a fact," Banner shrugged. "Something broke between all of you that sent everyone in different directions. So you can stand here today and say Tony was wrong to think the team wouldn't have his back, but he was he really? He woke up here thinking Thanos had just attacked and that almost none of you were talking to him anymore. If I was Tony, I'm pretty sure that would make me think no one wanted to see me either."

Barton nodded. It was simple logic. That it wasn't true didn't seem to matter.

"Well," he said, "when we get Tony back, I'm telling him he's wrong and calling bullshit on his solitude."

As he made his vow, Thor returned with Loki and Nebula in tow. Fury stalked behind them after escorting the trio back to the lab—the only place he trusted Loki to stay as Banner had proven able to subdue him previously.

"Did you just say: Get Tony back?" Thor asked abruptly.

"That's why you were originally summoned," Fury said, keeping his stern eye on Loki who looked positively bored. "Tony Stark is alive."

"How is that possible?" Thor gaped.

"We were stumped by that for a bit, but we've got it figured out finally," Banner said.

"Which isn't relevant at the moment," Fury snapped. "He's alive as far as we know. He is, for certain, missing."

Thor chose to ignore the angry bite to the man's words as well as the coldness of his stare. Instead, the God of Thunder beamed as tears sparkled in his pale eyes.

"Stark lives?" he asked and received nods. He instantly threw an arm around Loki's shoulders and jostled the man, making him wince. "The universe is indeed generous. First, I find my brother of centuries is alive. Now, I learn that Stark, my brother-in-arms, lives as well. It is too much to wish for and hope to receive."

Fury grunted noncommittally.

"I hoped I'd receive information on whether this little gambit to yesteryear was successful by now," he scowled then pointed at Thor. "You keep an eye on him." His cold gaze settled on Loki before he turned to Barton. "Come with me. I need you to look at something."

**oOoOo**

With a makeshift conduit and jerry-rigged terminals, Harley hooked the device in Ollie Reynolds' head to the laptop and got FRIDAY working on it. She was thousands of lines of code into the programming when one of Tony's algorithms busted open the locks. Without warning, the device began flashing then contracted slightly. It then ejected itself and fell on the pillow, inert and useless. Reynolds screamed.

Harley sprang from his chair, toppling it backward as he looked around frantically for someone to tell him what to do. Unfortunately, no one else was in the room. He made a dash for the door just as it swung open and a man with determined eyes and a metallic, prosthetic arm barged in.

"Who are you?" Harley gasped as Bucky pushed past him.

Rather than answer, the former Hydra operative clamped his vibranium arm over Reynolds' mouth. He held firm, muffling the man's shouts.

"I'm gonna remove my hand, and you're gonna stop yelling long enough to tell me where he is," Bucky ordered in a flat, cold voice.

Reynolds writhed for several long moments then seemed to inwardly collapse. He pulled a deep, shaky breath then turned terrified eyes to the man pinning him to the bed.

"Where am I?" he could be heard demanding beneath the hand covering his mouth.

"Some place a lot better than you're supposed to be," Bucky replied. "Tell me where the guy you're working for is. You remember something. They can never erase all of it. Think."

"Benton," Reynolds remarked breathlessly as Bucky lifted his hand. "I was with Greg Benton. We went for coffee."

"Your buddy is dead," Bucky replied. "Put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. I don't think it was his idea. You nearly did the same thing. Before all that, someone gave you a mission. I need to know what it was and where to find the guy who gave it to you."

Reynolds swallowed hard and stared wildly around the room. Harley took a tentative step forward and made eye contact with him. Reynolds blinked as his expression softened.

"You work with Tony," he observed. "I've seen you at the house. You're Harley Keener."

Harley nodded, amazed to hear the man speaking. He was also eager to call in a doctor to examine the man who'd just had a one-inch metal spike that served as the core of the device retract from his head.

"I'm gonna get someone to…," Harley began but was held in place as Bucky raised his hand.

"After," Bucky said, moving between the two of them to return to his menacing stare to the patient. "As soon as you answer my questions, someone will come and take care of that hole in your head."

"The what in my what?" Reynolds mumbled as his eyes rolled in his head. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"A place a hell of a lot nicer than were Tony Stark is, I'll bet," Bucky said as he lowered his voice as he leaned over the patient. "This kid just dug a transmitter out of your head. Tell me who put it there, where he did it, and everything you know about him."

Reynolds blinked and stared with confused and frightened eyes. Harley tried to interrupt the interrogation but was waved off with a single, terse gestured with an ominous, metal hand.

"You ambushed Tony and gave him to the guy in the silver suit," Bucky said. "So, start talking. Tell me what you know now, or I'll get the answers out of you my way."

**oOoOo**

The hands on Pepper's watch crept by so slow she wondered if they were crawling backward. She sighed as she realized that for the team undertaking the craziest part of the plan to save her husband that was exactly what they were doing.

Before he brought the solution for time travel to the team the previous fall, she'd never discussed with Tony in detail how he solved the riddle of time travel nor his thought on the concept. There simply wasn't the chance. When he was returned to her, he had no recollection of figuring out the process so she saw no reason to broach the subject. At that time, the future was of greater interest to her once she knew they had one. Now, she wished they had talked, if only so that she could understand what the team traveling back in their attempt to save him was going through. It was an odd aspect of the grand plan to fixate upon, but it caused her less anxiety to think about Cap, Dr. Strange, Rhodey and Lang traveling back in time to pre-treat her husband when he was healthy than it was to let her mind linger on what might be happening to Tony in the present. Pepper remembered with acute clarity the day she met him at that crumbling, tucked-away base in the fall and how he collapsed due to spontaneous hemorrhaging. She also didn't care to let her mind wander to thoughts of him as someone's hostage. She lived through that nightmare for three months when he was kidnapped in 2008.

She pushed an anxious, frustrated breath through her nose as she heaved herself up from the bed. Morgan was still outside. Happy had made a run back to the house and retrieved her helicopter to keep her occupied with something that wouldn't leave Peter (or anyone else) exhausted. Happy was, at that moment, watching the little girl as she did her best to not crash the toy into the side of the building. Even though the compound was undoubtedly secure, Happy's presence added an extra and necessary layer of reassurance Pepper needed for her daughter's sake.

With Happy playing nanny, it gave her the opportunity to execute her plan. She'd made up her mind. Her thoughts had kept straying to one member of the team currently somewhere in the past trying to save her husband. Cap had gone backward in time more than once previously. The last time, he took a tremendous risk with the lives of others in order to pursue what his heart desired—the same kind of gamble that he would surely have previously scolded Tony for even considering.

Yet that was the crux of the issue before her. There were times when the rational choice was simply not enough. Pepper knew the "technically proper" thing to do in her situation was to wait until there was news about her husband and more information on the treatment waiting in Banner's lab. However, thinking about Cap's decision to follow his heart and then recalling Peter's impassioned plea to everyone about taking even a dangerous risk when the matter was of sufficient importance, made her decision. It was truly the only choice she had and it was one she had to make. The alternative was to wait and hope for a good outcome.

Hope was never an integral part of any plan in the Stark family.

Risk, occasionally. Danger, unfortunately. The tightrope between genius and insanity, absolutely. But hope alone never led to any successful outcome as far as she could recall. It was a word that Tony himself rarely used because it had no empirical foundation. So, with an unspoken apology to her absent husband and their unborn son, she made her way toward the lab as her heart began to flutter with doubt, anxiety, and fear.

**oOoOo**

Ghost's ears perked at the chirp from his computer. A quick perusal of the code flying across his screen to alert him was puzzling yet also fortuitous. Someone had been foolish enough to decrypt one of his implants. He thought it likely that a coroner in New York was carving into the body of his deceased lieutenant, the one who had a bullet for dinner after delivering the information that Tony was on his way home from the city.

The alert on the screen, however, showed the wrong signal. The device was calibrated for that man's counterpart, the one whose body should have been found with a similar single gunshot wound to the head. In the intervening days, while Ghost worked on his uncooperative captive, he'd lost track of his wayward operative. He sighed and tapped a few keys, giving the kill-switch signal that would cause the implant to destruct. If it was still in a body, it would make only a small internal mess. If it was removed… Oh well, someone might lose a hand. It was hardly Ghost's problem.

No, his irritation was the annoying man on the top floor who refused to just give answers to his questions. Tony knew what Ghost wanted. He was playing games, foolish and deadly ones given the rattling sounds in the man's chest and the profusion of blood leaking from his nose and ears since his arrival, not to mention the seeping bullet wound in his shoulder that was on the verge of turning septic.

"I didn't want to waste another implant," Ghost sighed as he got up from his chair then looked over the open space on the ground floor of the mill which he considered his parade ground. "I suppose one less soldier won't be that much of a loss."

In the large room before him, all of those he had snatched in the previous few days (men and women no one would miss as they were vagrants discarded by society and who had called the abandoned factory home). Even when half of the world's population disappeared, no one even thought to look for these people. Making them vanish again was no trouble at all. Bringing them under his control with the implants was just as easily done. They would do as he commanded without question or hesitation. Should any one of them manage the miracle of disobedience, the implant would respond with a simple detonation, turning the brain to Jell-O and dropping the body instantly. Perfect disposable drones.

"I supposed our time together is limited no matter what," Ghost mused as he pocketed one of his devices then walked toward the stairs to make the climb to his captive's room. "Oh, Stark. I've dreamed of making you my marionette many times, but I so wanted it to be when you were in top form. Again, you deny me. I'll make you hurt for that."

**oOoOo**

Pepper entered the lab and saw that Banner was not there alone. Several people were present. The mini-crowd stopped her in the doorway and made her question whether she should proceed.

"Pepper," Banner spied her arrival then approached her with concern pulling on his features. "What are you doing here? Is anything wrong? Are Rhodey and Cap back?"

The rest of those in the room turned to face her. Nebula's head cocked to the side, and she nodded briefly at the woman she knew from her five years of visits to the Stark house to see Tony during her stint on Earth following the snap. Loki sighed with boredom as he slouched on the other side of the room. Thor turned and his face lit up with recognition and surprise.

"By Odin's beard!" he exclaimed. "You're with child! Is it Stark's offspring?"

"Of course," Banner answered for Pepper, figuring she got enough of that question from the tabloids and the internet.

At a loss for what to do with his jubilant emotion, Thor flung his arm out to grab onto anything. Loki swiftly moved out of range so what Thor found was Nebula. He snatched her close and hugged her tightly. Her muffled grunt was lost in the mass of his muscle. Her momentary resistance got her nowhere so she stopped struggling and let the beast have his moment while she contemplated whether the knife she had embedded in her metal arm would still open following the damage Groot did to it. However, she did not need to find out as she was released and put back on her feet as the God of Thunder began drying his eyes.

"I travel the universe, yet time and again my best moments are all tied to this planet," he smiled. "There is a lesson that, I think."

"There is also a lesson in watching who you touch," Nebula offered quietly then turned her attention to Pepper. "We were told Tony is alive. Is that accurate?"

Pepper nodded and felt her breath catch in her chest at the alien's reaction. Nebula bowed her head and made a noise that sounded like a child's pained gasp before shuddering. Her features shivered as she lifted her head, but she either refused to cry or was simply not able.

Nebula had been an occasional visitor at the house. She had always been a quiet guest, usually sitting opposite Tony and merely staring at him (almost basking in his presence) like a disciple awaiting wisdom from the master. Out of respect for his decision to leave the Avengers, Nebula never spoke of the work she did with them. Instead, she and Tony discussed engineering or spent time marveling at Morgan. Pepper was surprised to see the blue alien in the lab (along with Thor) having thought they were somewhere across the galaxy.

"This news gratifies me," Nebula said softly. "I will assist in finding him so that I may tell him so."

Pepper patted her arm. They had never become close the way the alien was with Tony, but Pepper suspected that had more to do with the three weeks the two of them spent adrift in space waiting to die. During that time, her husband had won the seemingly emotionless alien's respect and devotion. She mimicked his fascination with Morgan (when it was apparent she was not particularly accustomed to showing interest or affection for any human). She also took to referring to her teammate as _Rhodey_ rather than Rhodes as everyone else in the group did. How Tony had managed to forge that bond with Nebula was Pepper did not know, but she recognized the look of someone who was under the Stark spell. Nebula wore the same earnest expression that Peter, Harley, and Morgan did whenever Tony was around. Pepper was saddened to break the full news to her.

"Tony may not remember you," she said. "He doesn't recall the last five years."

"Then I will remind him," Nebula replied. "My memory is fine."

"You aren't offended or hurt by him forgetting you?" Pepper wondered.

"I have lost parts of myself, had pieces of me taken, but it never changed who I was at my core," she explained. "Tony is a good man, the kindest I have ever encountered. He treated me as an equal, befriended me, and taught me a game that he played fairly. No one else in the universe ever did that for me without seeking anything in return. He may have lost his memory. He did not lose my respect or my friendship."

Banner ushered Pepper further into the room and listened to her explain why she was here. He nearly tripped over his immense shoes in surprise. He made her repeat her words for him to be certain he understood her clearly.

**oOoOo**

Rhodes and Lang were barely away from the generators when the room hummed. Then, one after the other, Cap and Strange appeared. Both looked haggard, but Cap got their attention. He waved off the need for their hands to steady him, but he was grateful for the spot if need. He looked to Strange and received a nod.

"All done," the doctor said. "You?"

"Directly into the thigh," Cap replied. "Thor tapped the reactor back in place a second later, and I was out the door just as Banner… I mean Hulk crashed into the lobby. I'd say it was a good thing Tony was wearing a helmet. He'd have sustained a skull fracture otherwise."

Lang winced, recalling how he'd tried to berate Tony for losing the infinity stone in the process. He kept his mouth shut not to revisit the discussion. Thankfully, Cap appeared more interested in how everyone else's mission had gone.

"How about both of you?" he asked then turned his expectant gaze on the two men flanking him. Both Lang and Rhodes nodded.

"Done and done," Rhodes replied. "Now we wait?"

He directed his question at Strange, who sighed and nodded. Rhodes' jaw hardened at the answer he expected but did not like. From the doorway, a high-pitched whistle sounded. All turned to see Sam motioning them toward him. They walked at an even pace but with urgency in their steps. Each felt the drain from rushing through the quantum realm more than once.

"Barton was just looking over some satellite shots for Fury, and they think we've got something," Sam revealed.

"Got something?" Lang repeated. "Like we caught a virus or something?"

"No, like we caught a break in our search while you all took off to pretend you were in a scifi movie," Sam corrected. "We've got a line on Tony is. Briefing room in five."

"I'd like to tell Pepper we're back," Rhodes said. "She deserves a 10 second update."

"Make it two," Sam said. "She was heading to the lab when I saw her."

Rhodes nodded and quickened his step. He passed the control center and was heading toward the hallway that would take him to Banner's lab when he heard his name called. The voice was pleasant yet unexpected.

"Carol," Rhodes turned in his quest to see Captain Marvel striding toward him. "When did you get here?"

The two embraced briefly. Both wore the weight of their current tasks heavily on their brows.

"Not long ago," she nodded. "I have to leave now. I was just playing taxi driver this time. I heard you've been doing a bit of traveling. Where to this time, or should I say when?"

"Eons ago," he replied with a tired smile at the memory. "College days. Kind of wishing right now I had stayed. You really taking off just after getting here?"

"Universe is a big place," she nodded. "Lots to do."

He accepted the answer. He saw she was alone but was certain she spent her short stop over on the planet with Fury. She read his expression and confirmed it while explaining who her travel companions had been on the recent trip. She let Rhodes know she was leaving them with the ship used to arrive so that they could depart when they wished. He sighed and secretly hoped her abrupt departure wasn't due to finding out that his best friend couldn't keep his mouth shut in a briefing about after-hours friendships.

"If you heard about the time travel, that means you know what's going on here," he ventured.

"Yeah, you've lost your Tony again," she smirked. "I can't help this time, but I hope for your sake you find him."

Rhodes said he understood her need to depart but asked for one small favor on the off chance she could lend one tiny bit of help: another dose of the Xorian Elixir. It had helped save Tony the last time he went missing and returned in an ailing state.

"If the plan to treat him in the past didn't work, neither will the elixir," she informed him.

"I'm betting on what we did actually working," Rhodes said. "I've got to. Then we just need to cure the damage that's been done."

"I know he means a lot to you," she replied. "If he can't be saved, are you prepared to lose him again?"

"No," Rhodes said instantly. "I've faced the possibility of Tony dying more than once, and I've never come to terms with it actually happening. He's more than my best friend. He's my family, my brother. He's been in my life for so long, I hardly remember what it was like without him."

"Quieter?" she smirked. "Simpler?"

"No, just worse," he sniffed as his lips twisted, but he held back all other emotion. "I guess it's harder this time because…"

"Because you can see it coming?" she guessed.

"I really hate the word inevitable," Rhodes sighed.

**oOoOo**


	37. Chapter 37

**oOoOo**

Banner had been eager to try his solution—the one involving the reconstituted version of Erskine's formula.

Or he thought he'd been eager. Now, with a fragile patient waiting to receive the dose, he wasn't so sure.

He did not doubt that there was no other cure for the fate awaiting Pepper's child once he was born, but a feeling of dread leeched from Banner's bones as he prepared to administer the dose to her. They would inject it directly into the umbilical cord. It would be an uncomfortable procedure for her as the needle would need to be inserted through her belly button, but beyond his sympathy he felt his fears were also rising.

He was as certain as he could be that the child would not experience colossal mutations due to the RNA reprogramming. The baby had no vaccinations. He was (as Tony stated would be necessary) a blank slate, the perfect test subject. Banner was just beginning to doubt there was sufficient time for the treatment to take hold and make any difference. He feared injecting the fetus when Pepper was reporting the occasional contraction. He worried the sudden introduction of a serum serving as a catalyst to reprogram one aspect of RNA might cause one of two things. Pepper's body might begin to reject the fetus inducing pre-term labor to begin in earnest, or the sudden changes to the baby's chemical make-up would place the fetus under significant stress that (even if the serum worked) would harm the child and cause devastating lifelong complications. A third option (one Banner did not want to consider) was that the serum would have no effect, and the child would be born only to instantly start bleeding into his lungs once free of the womb then perish.

"You assumptions regarding the questionable viability of the child appear accurate," Loki noted as he lurked behind Banner while the scientist wrestled with his doubt while preparing the syringe. "Dithering about it won't change the outcome, but your pointless delaying may."

"Doesn't make this any easier," Banner said.

Pepper reclined on the bed with her abdomen partially exposed. A sterile drape covered most of the area, but a cutout at the navel indicted the injection site. A monitor was in place on her swollen belly measuring the baby's heart rate. Another was attached to her doing the same for her vitals. Her heart rate was nearly as elevated as her child's.

"Just relax," Banner said as he looked up at her from the monitor.

Her expression said she was as relaxed as possible given the circumstances. She exhaled slowly then closed her eyes.

"You're doing the right thing," Loki assured her.

Pepper looked up to see the tall, thin man with angular features and dark hair staring at her. He was dressed all in black and her mind could not help but think of a grim reaper. Her heart sped up as she locked eyes with his penetrating gaze.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Uh, this is Thor's brother, Loki," Banner introduced them.

"The one who tried to take over New York with an alien army?" Pepper recalled, her heart skipping a beat as she recalled Tony's nearly suicidal act of flying a nuclear missile into a wormhole (which psychologically crippled him for the better part of the following six years).

"Yes, the very one," Loki grimaced, "but I'm feeling much better now. For what it's worth, I wasn't fully in control of my actions when I threw your husband off his building without his metal suit."

"You did what?" Pepper snapped.

Banner cleared his throat and rumbled about those actions being long ago and of no consequence, mostly because he needed his patient's blood pressure and heart rate lowered rather than because he believed his own words. He shot a warning look at Loki that he hoped reminded him of their interaction in the penthouse the day of the onslaught a decade earlier. From the paleness that washed over the man's face, it seemed Banner's point was taken and understood.

"Loki's looked at my theory and test simulations," Banner said more kindly to Pepper. "He's… I don't know how to describe what Loki is exactly in a medical or academic sense, but he understands what I'm attempting. He's in agreement that it should work."

The God of Mischief scoffed and muttered as he rolled his eyes.

"Whether it will work or not is hardly relevant for whether to undertake the procedure," Loki said as he kept his intense gaze on Pepper. "Madam, you're in a situation with no desirable choices. You have chosen the only option that gives any hope of ultimate success. The one guarantee anyone can give you is the conclusion you already reached in deciding to go through with this: If you do nothing, your child won't live for very long after it draws its first breath. No one can honestly promise you that this radically experimental treatment will save your child, but you have my respect for choosing this path. The one thing of use and merit my brother ever taught me was that doing something is better than doing nothing when in a desperate situation. Ultimately, should these measures fail, you will at least know that you tried."

"Hey," Banner growled, "come on. Why do you say things like that?"

"Because they are true," Loki replied.

Pepper nodded her understanding and closed her eyes trying to find some soothing, neutral scene to fixate upon while this happened, but all she could picture was Tony's face the night she told him they were expecting another child. In any other moment, it would have been a pleasant memory. His dark eyes lit up and a giddy grin appeared on his face—an expression identical to the look he gave her five years earlier when she told him Morgan was on the way. Both were good memories, among her best, but tears squeezed out of her eyes as she listened to the two men continue to bicker around her as it merely reminded her that her husband was absent and nowhere closer to being found.

"Loki, could you try to be a little compassionate?" Banner continued in their squabble.

"What would be the virtue of compassion predicated upon lies?" Loki wondered. "The truth can be harsh, but that does not make it bad. You're a very negative person… and a very green one as well."

"Aren't you naturally blue?"

"Yes, like the regal blood that flows in my veins," Loki said lifting his chin haughtily.

As she listened to the griping, Pepper felt a cold, hard hand rest on her arm. She looked up to find Nebula beside her.

"If the two of you need to have a measuring contest, I believe there is a small closet down the hall you can use," the blue alien said in her flat, breathy tone.

Banner nudged Loki out of the way as he approached the bed. He exhaled slowly then stopped moving. He found his hand shaking. He needed someone with a steadier hand and with greater fine motor skill. He looked over his shoulder at Loki then shook his head.

"I need someone I trust with a sharp object," Banner announced over the curtain separating the patient's bay from the rest of the room. "Thor, find Clint and bring him here."

**oOoOo**

Peter paced in the briefing room, called there by Coulson when Sam sent people to round up his team. The teen was the only person in the room until Cap ambled in, walking a bit slower than when he initially left not that much earlier, but looking like he'd run a marathon since then. Peter hurried to his side and, without asking, helped him into a chair.

"So did you do it?" he asked anxiously. "Were you able to treat Mr. Stark with the dysprosium?"

"We gave him the vaccinations," Cap assured the teen.

"Did he know you?"

"No," Cap shook his head. "He was a child most of the time. The one instance when he was an adult was the last time I saw him, just minutes ago, in 2012 in the lobby of Stark Tower. He was in the middle of a cardiac event at that time. Besides, I'm rather well camouflaged these days."

He offered a small smile from his wrinkled face, but only got a worried nod as Peter folded his arms tightly and began pacing.

"Do you think it worked?" he asked.

Cap had no way of knowing. Strange muttered something about drawing blood on his last encounter with Tony and was heading to the lab to measure dysprosium levels. That would determine if all their hopping worked. Cap didn't want to lie to Peter about whether they were successful, but he didn't want to add to his concern. He sighed and beckoned Peter to take a seat beside him.

"I've known Tony for a long time," he said. "For someone without any scientifically enhanced skills, he has a knack for surviving when he shouldn't. We knew this mission was our only hope to help him, but we also knew it was a longshot. There was nothing I saw in our interactions with him in the past that gave me any hint about whether the treatments would work once his future arrived."

Peter nodded. He knew that. He'd listened to the briefing and understood the chances. This was one of those moments Mr. Stark had mentioned to him—when risks and long odds didn't matter. The former teammates had burrowed through the fabric of time like ticks to try a last ditch effort at a miracle. Doing so was dangerous to them, but they did it and were left to wait for results.

"It's funny how you started all this when he was just a baby, and you saw him like that just a few minutes ago," Peter remarked. "What's it like? Going back in time?"

He asked the question merely to try keeping his mind off the persistent worry that kept him edgy and distracted. He needed his wits and limbs agile and sharp if they located Mr. Stark because Peter fully intended to join the mission to rescue his mentor. Letting his thoughts churn into knots of worry wouldn't be good for preparation.

"It's exhausting," Cap sighed. "Or maybe I'm just feeling my age. Seeing Tony when he was so young made me think of my own children at that age. Of course, my children never gave a piano recital to avoid a shot nor did any of them end up in the hospital with broken bones after trying to rewrite the laws of physics."

Peter scrunched his brow then received a brief rundown of the encounters chosen for the injections. He smiled a bit at picturing his mentor at Morgan's age. Peter had observed her play the piano on the Sunday he spent at the Stark home. She played well for a little kid until she could no longer sit still and fell into a fit of giggles. She had missed her lesson that week as her father was missing and the family was under protection at the base. That thought returned the frown to his face.

"Worrying now doesn't fix anything, Peter," Cap advised. "You have to have faith in your team. These are good people. They're smart and strong. They're doing everything possible to bring Tony home."

"I know," he nodded. "I just feel useless. There's nothing I can do but wait."

"I spent a lifetime confronting that feeling," Cap revealed. "I knew in advance every bad thing that was going to happen on the world stage for 70 years. I knew when bombs would explode, wars would start, and assassinations would occur. I wasn't allowed to stop them. I couldn't do anything to help the people who would suffer from those events."

"Did you ever wonder what would happen if you had stepped in and done something to change things?" Peter asked.

Cap nodded. He wondered that every day. It was the burden, the price, for going back in time to live the life he always wanted. He had to stand idly by and let the strife of nations occur, let countless strangers perish, and let his friends suffer. Each time, he tamped down the urge to step in to the situations. It was a difficult fight each time.

"How did you manage not to do anything?" the teen asked.

"I almost failed," he replied. "I started out telling myself that I would be too invested in living my life to worry about the rest of the world, but I found myself thinking up ways to send anonymous warnings that might get the attention of someone in authority to prevent catastrophes. I had to keep reminding myself that the only way the Avengers would ultimately be victorious against Thanos was to let events unfold as they had originally. That helped me keep my secrets, but the longer I lived and the more I watched unfold, the harder it became. In 2008, I nearly sent a warning to the military not to let Tony go to Afghanistan."

That choice startled Peter. He scrunched his face and offered Cap a questioning stare.

"Why would you stop that?" he asked. "Without that happening, he'd never have created Iron Man. Did you not want him to be a part of the Avengers?"

Cap shook his head. It wasn't an exclusion from the group he sought. It was avoiding the seminal event (the revelation that Tony created the impressive armor) that put the possibility of the Avengers back on Fury's radar, he explained. Some part of Cap clung (briefly) to the notion that not assembling the team would make Earth of no interest to the rest of the universe. He thought it might create an alternate timeline in which Thanos was not successful in his quest to eradicate half of the universe because he never got his hands on the infinity stones. That would have saved many lives and so much heartache.

"But it would also mean Vision was never created," he revealed with a sigh. "Wanda's brother wouldn't die in Sokovia, but she and Pietro would still be under Hydra's control. Dr. Banner would still be on the run and never come to grips with the Hulk. Tony's company would still make weapons, and he would never pivot his focus and intellect to green energy projects. The only unmarred upsides I could find were that Natasha would still be alive and Rhodes wouldn't need his exoskeleton to walk, but I had a more selfish reason than those that kept me from changing our destinies. Without Thanos initially succeeding, we would never have decided to go back in time to fix what he did. Absent that plan, Tony would never have created the quantum bracelets that let us time travel. Without those, I never would have married Peggy and raised our family. I'm not sure what kind of man it makes me knowing I chose the good of the one as my rationale for allowing the suffering of many."

Peter stared at the man, digesting his offering. It was a deeper answer than he expected. He thought of telling Cap that everything they knew about time continuums indicated that no matter what he did the things that had already happened in his lifetime were going to happen again in some manner, but he doubted the man wanted to hear that. He wanted a judgment on his character.

"I think it makes you no different than the rest of us," Peter said. "I think everyone wants to hang onto whatever it is that we care about most. I argued that we needed to go back in time to save Mr. Stark simply because I want him to be alive. Dr. Strange, Colonel Rhodes, and Mr. Lang must agree because they went back in time with you to try and make that happen. Director Fury supported it as well. You did all of that for the selfish reason of wanting to save one person who meant something to all of you. I don't think doing all of this to help Mr. Stark is all that different from you wanting to be with the woman you loved."

Cap nodded, appreciating the simple justification. It didn't cover all the points, and it left plenty of that annoying gray (the one he spent a lifetime learning was so prevalent in the big and little decisions that never before troubled him during his first go around in life), but it did get at the heart of the matter.

"You're wise for someone your age," he said.

Peter blushed and shrugged then offered a response that Cap found more reassuring than the teen's earlier words.

"We do whatever it takes for our family," he nodded.

**oOoOo**

Barton stood beside Banner and blinked at the request made to him. He looked from the scientist, to the patient, to the lanky visitor from afar who stood in his midst, watching the proceedings with a superior expression on his angular face.

"Somehow," Barton looked at Loki with disappointment, "I knew you wouldn't stay dead."

"It seems to be a minor epidemic," the Asgardian replied.

Banner did not let the two men engage in discussion as he swiftly explained his dilemma. Following the fiasco with Dr. Tanis, Banner no longer trusted any medical personnel on the base. Therefore, he needed a set of steady hands and a sharp eye to perform the injection on Pepper. His own hands were great for strength but not for agility.

"So yes on opening peanut butter jars," Barton said calmly, sliding into Banner's place beside Pepper's bed, "but no on washing the wine glasses. Gotcha." He then winked confidently at Pepper and managed to coax a small smile on her worried face. "You sure this is what you want to do?"

"It's my only option," she said. "Doing nothing is surrendering to the inevitable. We don't give up without a fight in this family."

He nodded then listened to Banner explain what needed to be done. Barton did not blink, did not object, and did not hesitate as he was handed the syringe.

"Piece of cake," he assured the patient. "I cut the umbilical cord on all three of my kids, and they turned out perfect."

"This isn't cutting an umbilical cord," she noted as Banner placed an ultra sound sensor on her belly and showed Barton on the monitor where the needle needed to go and how deep.

"Don't worry," Banner assured her. "Clint can shoot the eye out of a quarter with an arrow at 50 feet even in a strong wind with explosions around him and bullets whizzing by. This is easier."

"Yeah, nothing to it," Barton smiled warmly. "Just do me a favor. When this all turns out fine, tell Tony I'm sending him a bill for services rendered. It'll be a joke between you and me. I'll ask for half a billion dollars, and you tell him to write me a check."

"He'd pay it," Pepper informed him. "Tony doesn't care about money. If this treatment works and our son lives, you could ask Tony for any amount for helping and he'd pay it without hesitation."

Barton nodded, feeling a little chastised even though that was obviously not her intention. He sighed then reconsidered.

"Anything?" he smirked. "Okay, then I'm sending him a bill for silence instead. I'm gonna request that he sit in a room with all of us for two whole hours and not say a word. We get to talk about whatever we want, and he's not allowed to say anything at all. Actually, we'll make it a roast of him, and he has to pay for our dinner. Fury gets to open the ceremony. I'm torn on whether you or Rhodes get to be the closing act."

As he spoke so effortlessly calm, Pepper felt a pinch in her midsection telling her the needle was in and the serum delivered. She listened intently to the pulse on the monitor that was her son's heartbeat. It did not alter. The child did not stir. He remained docile as though sleeping.

"That's it," Banner said. "It's done. Now, I just need you to lay still. No getting up, not even sitting up, okay? Just relax."

"Is there any way to know if it's working?" Pepper asked.

"We'll do an amniocentesis in a few days to see what the baby's cells are doing," Banner informed her. "The serum should begin sending the reprogrammed signals to the DNA immediately. Even though the baby's just a little guy right now, we should begin to see something. Just take it easy, and rest here for a while. If you need anything, let me know."

**oOoOo**

After finding out from Carol who she transported to Earth, Rhodes made a decision on his own that Thor and Nebula should get invited to attend Sam's briefing but Loki needed to remain within Bruce's powerful reach. The only bright spot on the horizon for Rhodes was the knowledge that Thor and Nebula were back in the rotation for a mission to rescue Tony should Sam have intel on his location. Thor (even back in his old frat boy gone to seed state) was always a welcomed addition, and Nebula was both rabid in her devotion to Tony as well as razor sharp when it came to combat skills. Rhodes liked the way the odds had tipped slightly more in the team's (and Tony's) favor.

However, he entered the lab to find just one of the new arrivals visible. Thor beamed at him and greeted him with a meaty palm clamped onto his shoulder. Rhodes shuddered under the pressure of the man's jubilant grip as it pressed into the bruises from the seat belt that restrained him during the car accident days earlier.

"Rhodes!" he crowed. "We are together once more! Do you know the joyous news about Stark?"

"The part where he's dying of an illness we don't know if we can cure, or that he's been kidnapped?" Rhodes wondered.

"I meant that he is alive," Thor replied. "We shall find him—you and I alone if we must, as everyone else appears occupied."

"I think Sam's got something for us," he said. "We're getting a briefing in two minutes. You in?"

"Indeed I am," Thor announced then called across the room. "Banner, Rhodes and I will find Stark and return him. You should stay here to deliver his child."

The god nodded firmly toward the curtained off area in the lab and turned toward the door, but Rhodes halted in place.

"Wait, what?" he exclaimed. "Deliver? The baby's not due for a few more weeks. Pepper?"

Thor grabbed Rhodes' uninjured arm and prevented him from going toward the curtain. Instead, he jostled him out the door and into the hallway.

"I'm sure she'd like to join us," Thor nodded as he ushered Rhodes away, "but I think she came here to give birth or have Banner verify something with her growing child. That means we're on our own. Fear not. I brought my axe, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose now that I've heard the wonderful news."

"Tony's a hostage, and he's dying," Rhodes reminded him.

"Ah, but he is alive and will have another child quite soon," the Asgardian said brightly. "His abduction and illness are merely unfortunate. He got better following his death, didn't he? Surely, this latest problem should not be nearly as difficult as that."

"Yeah, you're just throwing sunshine on everything," Rhodes muttered as they tromped toward the briefing room.

**oOoOo**

The air was tense as those Sam had summoned gathered in the briefing room. All eyes were on the Director as Fury stood before them imposingly with a map projected onto the wall with one area blinking with white light surrounding it.

"We've got Stark's probable location," he announced pointing at a satellite image. "It's about 40 miles from here."

"How did you get it?" Cap asked. "And what makes you think this is where Tony is?"

"Mr. Keener made a breakthrough," he reported evasively. "He backtracked the signal on the device he removed from Reynolds. That was then verified by some qualified questioning of Reynolds. If Doctors Strange and Banner are accurate with their calculations on Stark's condition, there's no time for recon. The team will enter and assess as it proceeds."

A satellite picture replaced the map and showed a small, brick complex on the banks of the Hudson River. There was ample tree growth around it to indicate it had been abandoned for many years and that approaching it from the air would be problematic for anyone not in a single-man contraption. Anyone going in on foot would need to hike roughly half a mile through a wooded area.

"That looks like an abandoned WPA building," Cap noted. "There are dozens of those that were built throughout the valley in the 1930s. Most were shut down or abandoned in the 1980s. Vagrants tend to move into them and call them home. You could be charging into a homeless compound and putting innocent civilians in harm's way. You have millions in stealth technology at your disposal. Surely you can use some of it."

Fury sighed. _Leave it to the Boy Scout in the room to act as the speed bump_, he huffed. It was beyond predictable. The man had just jumped back in time to essentially commit assault on a child numerous times by sticking him with a needle and a chemical he did not need at that time and found no fault with it, but he was worried they might scare some junkies and drive them out of the place they where they were squatting and trespassing. Rather than argue, Fury decided to do precisely what he did to anyone who tried to assert authority over him when he didn't think it necessary: He ignored it.

"You'll come in from the south and land here," he continued as he zoomed in on the image, "about half a north mile from the target behind this hill. Infiltration point is here, along the river. The place is a former mill with a warren of rooms. The west side is in danger of collapsing into the river so stay on your toes."

"Or in the air," Rhodes offered to dry chuckles.

"Thermal images taken in the last 15 minutes," Fury continued unhindered, "put roughly 20 heat signatures scattered throughout the building, but one is isolated."

He pointed to what appeared to be a corner space on the top floor of the four-story structure.

"There's been no movement from this body since we began observing this location," he said with dire seriousness. "Readings show the body temperature is dropping."

"Dropping?" Peter repeated. "What does that mean?"

His face was pale. His jaw was as rigid as his posture, and his eyes were darting from the image on the screen, to Fury, to the rest of the team rapidly with fear. It was evident his heightened senses were spinning overtime.

"It means that whoever is in that room," Barton answered plainly, "is getting cold. Calm down, kid. They might be using temperature as an interrogation tool."

"Or the body might be losing heat for other reasons," Sam added and eyed his teammate critically. "Clint, don't sugarcoat it. He wants to play with the adults, he better get used to what can happen."

"I'm as aware as anyone in this room what could happen," Peter replied with a stony expression as he folded his arms defiantly. "I'm young, not stupid."

Barton winced on Sam's behalf and grinned painfully at him over the burn in the words. Fury was not pleased with the interruption.

"And I'm not here because I enjoy giving these little talks," he warned before continuing with his briefing. "Sam is leading this strike. You all follow him. Your team ready?"

He looked around the room to see Barton, Peter, Rhodes, and (surprisingly) Thor in the doorway. He jerked his chin at the Asgardian and received a raised axe of acknowledgement that he was prepared to join them.

"No Bruce or Wanda?" Sam questioned.

"Dr. Banner will remain here," Fury said. "As for Miss Maximoff, she also won't be joining you."

"Why?" Sam exclaimed as the most powerful weapon on his team was stripped away without warning. "She's that against the back-in-time piece of the plan that she won't help with this part?"

"I didn't say that," Fury replied then looked at Thor before returning his gaze to Sam. "Thor brought a travel buddy, and Miss Maximoff is the closest thing we have to unbreakable handcuffs should Dr. Banner need assistance restraining our guest."

Sam nodded and his mind began devising a plan in case the base got taken over in their absence. It was going to be a long day.

"Alright," he said as he nodded at the team. "Suit up if you've got one. Rhodes, you're solid even with that arm?"

"It's _armor_, Sam," he reminded his team leader. "Look, this is Tony we're talking about so I'm going whether you like it or not. If this dude can bust my suit, it won't matter that I've got a cast."

Sam nodded and quickly barked out positions for everyone. The plan was to make the incursion on two levels. Sam and Thor would enter through the ground floor and create a distraction while clearing out whoever was there for resistance. Rhodes and Peter would enter from the roof, making their way to the isolated room to see if that's where their objective was held. Throughout, Sam wanted Barton on the roof to keep watch over the perimeter. If Tony was found by the upper floor-entry team, they were to bring him to the roof for extraction. If he was found on a lower level, the ground floor team would take him out downstairs. Agent Hill would remain with the jet and be ready to take off on their signal.

"Are the five of you enough?" Hill asked, and drew all eyes to her. "It's a legitimate question. This isn't a full-scale battle. This is a surgical strike to retrieve one of your own from an unknown hostile. The kid here is good, but he's still green. Metal cocoon or not, Rhodes still has a bum arm. You don't know what tech this guy has or who he has helping him. You've got Hawkeye just watching the outside for activity while the rest of you are inside. It seems like you'll be half-blind and short-handed."

Her objection hung on the air but was answered swiftly by the new voice joining the briefing.

"I've got an extra hand if you want it," Bucky said as he walked into the room and nodded at Fury while directing his offer to Sam. "Reynolds coughed up everything he knows to me. That mill is the right place, but there's a lot more than 20 guys guarding it—more like double that for humans. That's in addition to damn robots with lasers and crazy stuff plus what sounds like chemical and nerve-agent weapons. All his guys, they're like Reynolds was: embedded with those devices. The one we pulled from him just blew up from some remote detonation signal when we put it in a containment vessel, so there's that to add to the fun."

"Robots and exploding human drones acting like his personal corps of unflinching soldiers," Sam sighed then nodded to Bucky. "If you want in, you're with Thor and me on the ground floor working out way up to the top to meet the others."

The room collectively sighed and groaned, but no one made mention of delaying or rethinking the plan.

"Did Reynolds say if the humans have enhanced abilities?" Cap asked.

"I asked, but he didn't know," Bucky shook his head but grinned. "Be nice to get a good workout again."

Sam released a slow breath as he chewed his lip, rethinking his plan but decided nothing had changed significantly but the odds. He would go in with the team he had. He'd feel better if he wasn't four members shy, but with two at the base playing prison guard, one dead, and the last one being the actual objective of the mission, Sam didn't see where he had any other choices.

"Reynolds tell you what this guy wants with Tony?" Rhodes asked Bucky.

"Yeah," he nodded. "He wants the formula Howard recreated. The guy calls himself Ghost because he has a suit that lets him walk through solid matter. It apparently makes him even nuttier than he was to begin with, which I'm gonna guess was a lot in the first place. He plans to dose up an army and control them with one of those head device things that kid pulled out of Reynolds. This guy's not stupid. He built a gamma particle generator to get juiced up himself once he gets the formula. After that, it's the same old story: maniac takes over the world."

He shrugged then offered a brief explanation about what Harley found for the devices capabilities. The news washed over the room in a sobering wave. It didn't make the wearer invincible, but it made him believe he was. No fear meant no hesitation and no will to stop the fight. It also meant the wearer was an innocent victim in the scheme who was going to give the Avengers no choice but to shoot to kill. Each man they encountered would be an unwilling (yet unrelenting) soldier and a ticking time bomb if Ghost decided to engage the destruction protocol. His slave army had zero chance of surviving if the team attempted any measures to disable the devices.

"The dude's had Tony for what, four or five days now?" Sam assessed and looked between Rhodes and Peter. "You understand that there's a damn good chance he's used one of these implants on Tony and made him turn over the formula from his father's records already."

"I don't think so," Bucky offered before Rhodes could argue or object. "I heard this guy talking to Mason Osborne months ago. He likes torture. He hates Tony for some reason."

"Great, another one," Rhodes mumbled.

"I'm saying that taking the formula from him with ease isn't what Ghost wants," Bucky explained. "He wants to hurt Tony, to break him, make him beg, and make him bleed."

A rippling series of pops sounded in the room and focused all eyes on a rock-jawed Peter, who was clenching his fists so tightly that he'd cracked all of his knuckles in succession.

"I second that," Rhodes nodded bracingly at the teen.

"How long do you think your friend could hold out against this guy torturing him?" Bucky asked the Air Force Colonel.

Hurt him. Break him. Make him beg. Make him bleed. That's what Barnes believed the plan to be. Rhodes shook his head slowly. Hurt and bleed were easy enough. Tony was human, a weakened human currently if all the medical estimates were accurate. Break him? Possible, but it would take a lot because Tony was stubborn and always seemed to think he could make it out of any bad situation. As for begging, that just wasn't going to happen. It wasn't in Tony to do that. He lacked the ability to ask for help when he was around the people he knew best and trusted most. Begging simply wasn't in his DNA.

"He refused for three months to build a missile for the terrorists who captured and tortured him back when he was a jetsetter," Rhodes reminded the room. "This guy doesn't have Pepper or Morgan in his clutches, so my money's on Tony to give the guy nothing more than a high blood pressure and a headache."

Barton sighed and shook his head, shooting down Rhodes' rationale.

"Tony doesn't know that," Barton cut in. "We know Tony's family is safe—he doesn't. He might have been told they're captives. The guy makes people drones and likes torture—what's to say he hasn't made Tony believe he's got Pepper and his little girl? That's some easy torture to inflict, and I'm betting it would work. If I've followed what you've all told me, even if your _Back to the Future_ treatments worked, Tony's not in any condition to put up much resistance. He's sick and weakened. He'll die soon unless we get him here for treatment. We have to assume Tony broke and gave the guy access to the formula."

It was not lost on anyone that they could be walking into a fight that would make their family squabble in Germany look like a game of dodge ball. As many as 40 super soldiers against a high school senior, a recently-out-of-retirement archer, a pilot with a broken arm, a weary soldier taking over as a first-time leader, and a god who'd just flown a few hundred light-years toting an axe (none of whom could actually use most of their enhanced abilities unless they wanted to kill the slave army) suddenly didn't seem like a formidable squad to anyone in the room.

It didn't feel like enough to anyone except the one-armed assassin, who'd murdered hundreds in his lifetime but was now on the side of righteousness.

"I think we got this," Bucky announced as he nodded confidently.

Sam offered him a curt nod of appreciation and hoped Bucky's bravado paid off. The rest of the team offered steely looks to each other.

"Tie your boots, gentlemen," Sam said as he stood up. "We leave in two minutes."

The team filed out with Peter tapping his hands on his thighs nervously just as the nano-tech engaged and encased him in his Iron Spider suit. Sam shook his head at the boy's jitteriness and began second-guessing his decision to let him tag along. He was wavering on whether to retract the assignment when he spied Cap. The old soldier spoke a few words to Peter in the doorway. The teen nodded and left the room. Sam approached his former leader and aired his doubts.

"I think I should ground the kid," he said. "Taking him along is asking for trouble."

"Peter is the one who first sounded the alarm that Tony was taken," Cap reminded him. "He didn't go charging in half-cocked. He gathered information and assessed the situation then made a wise choice for how to proceed. He is young, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. He's also fought in battle before, Sam."

"I know, but he's a wreck," Sam pointed out. "Calling you when he realized something happened to Tony and Rhodes was smart, but he did it because he was scared. As for not charging in, he locked himself in the Quinjet and didn't know how to get out. It was situation paralysis and ignorance, not wisdom that kept him from doing something stupid that night. On top of all that, he's a little over-dedicated to Tony, which means he's not thinking straight or strategically."

Cap shrugged noncommittally. There was no doubt that Peter's primary focus would be finding and protecting his mentor. Capturing or disabling the man who took Tony would take a backseat to ensuring Tony's wellbeing. However, everyone knew that. Peter had announced to the group days earlier that this was personal to him. His honesty was the reason Sam assigned him the job of going to the most likely location where Tony could be found. It was also the reason the other member of the team deeply personally invested in Tony's rescue (Rhodes) was going with Peter. Rhodes was just as keyed up as the teenager, but he was a career military man. He was practiced in maintaining a calm exterior and would follow mission protocol regardless of his feelings.

"I think Peter's determination makes him dedicated to finding Tony quickly and securing his escape," Cap assessed. "You need all the speed you can muster right now."

"I agree, but the kid has this whole hero worship thing going that also makes him a liability," Sam maintained.

"It's much more than hero worship," Cap corrected him. "It's love, Sam, and it goes both ways. Peter is the reason Tony solved our time travel problem last fall. He didn't have to help us. He was living the life he always wanted, a peaceful family life with Pepper and Morgan. Tony knew he was lucky; his family survived the snap, but losing Peter encapsulated everyone else's loss for Tony. He carried that with him every day because he felt responsible for Peter's disappearance and grieved his loss. Losing that boy on Titan is what broke Tony's spirit. Once he realized he could help us, the chance to return Peter and everyone else is what got Tony back in the game. It seems to me that we all owe Peter almost as much as we owe Tony. They're a package deal, Sam. One without the other just isn't possible. So, if I was the one leading this team, I wouldn't consider benching the kid."

Sam scoffed and shook his head as he made what he hoped was not a fatal decision for anyone on the team.

"Sarcastic Cynical Stark and his devoted sidekick, Exuberant Boy Optimism," he sighed. "Someone needs to do a movie about that." He then paused and looked at Cap expectantly. "You want in on this?"

Cap smiled in a way that stated the urge to say yes was strong, but the knowledge that such an answer was suicidal was equally powerful.

"This is your Op to run, and you don't need an old man holding you back," he said. "You've got Bucky, so you're better staffed that you realize. I'll be here for whatever you need on this end. Good luck."

**oOoOo**


	38. Chapter 38

**oOoOo**

Tony pressed his back into the rough, brick wall and forced himself to a standing position. The throb at the back of his head was intense. The silver psycho had knocked him out again, that was obvious. This time he'd done something more than just let Tony fall to the floor and writhe in agony. As he fumbled in his locks, he found something round, cold, and hard pressed against his skin at the base of his skull.

He scratched at it and got a jolt that made his knees bend. A few curses and some serious panting kept him conscious and on his feet (with the help of the wall).

_Implant_, his mind told him.

What the guy hoped to do, Tony could not guess. Whatever it was, he wanted no part of it. The odd swimming sensation that had filled his mind since arriving at this rundown Shangri La had abated, but the strong taste of metal in his mouth was changing without dissipating. Now, cooper flavors had joined the mix which meant one thing: blood. He couldn't tell if it was dripping down his throat from some internal injury to his head/face or if it was rising up from his stomach or lungs due to internal bleeding. Neither boded well. The chill in his limbs, which stood in contrast to the fire burning in his veins, was also ominous.

His hopes that he would get out of this one alive were dwindling. His only goal, therefore, was simply to deprive his captor of whatever it was he wanted. If he wanted information, Tony decided he'd become the most ignorant person on the planet. If the guy wanted cooperation, deaf and mute were Tony's new skills. If he just wanted to see Tony in pain…

He looked around the empty room and saw nothing he could use to put himself out of his misery and remove his suffering as a source of amusement for the nutjob. He did, however, note that the door to the room didn't always close firmly. The arrogance of Morley to not bother locking it spoke volumes for how whipped or weakened he believed Tony to be.

_He's not wrong_, Tony thought miserably, _but down and beat is a far cry from dead… so far_.

His plan, he decided after little thought was to get to the door. At least, he thought it was little time spending contemplating. Time was acting funny; he could have sworn he had been standing when he started this planning session but found he was kneeling on the floor with his cheek pressed to the brick wall like he'd fallen asleep that way. Whatever the case, the plan he devise was simple: Open the door, then throw himself down whatever stairway he found.

As plans go, it was neat and elegant in its lack of detail and also nearly foolproof because Tony doubted he could stand for long. So whether he threw himself down or simply fell down, a broken neck, devastating skull fracture, or other serious hemorrhaging type of injury would be guaranteed.

_Ha_, he thought wryly and chuckled triumphantly as he groped the wall to stand up,_ try and have fun with me or get anything out of me when I'm dead. That'll teach you to fuck with a lunatic who use to strap a reactor to his chest and once flew a nuke into outer space. Hell, I nearly killed myself on summer break moving an engine block when I was 12 or 13 and… Wow. I never realized how much one of those doctors looked like Strange. His father maybe?_

Tony paused as an old memory, covered in cobwebs, rose in his mind of himself laying in an ER bay waiting for his father to stop yelling at Jarvis long enough to realize he was actually pissed at his son, not the employee who had only delivered the news that Howard's son had done something dangerous and idiotic (again). Tony recalled the doctors checking on him as the pain medication the nurses had administered began to take hold. He didn't remember seeing the doctors after that moment, but he did remember one tried to comfort him, which was pointless. Groggy or not, he was waiting for his father's inevitable lecture. Tony did not remember the doctors' faces very clearly, but he did recall that one had a beard that struck him as odd at the time. Thinking back, it was the sort of goatee Strange wore. There was also something about the shape of the man's face, his swept back hair, and broad forehead that were familiar as well.

_Damn wizard was probably hopping through time for years_, Tony thought distractedly. _Couldn't take a peek to see murderous Grimace was on the horizon then maybe destroy the Time Stone or Mind Stone while they were on earth. No. But he travels through time to rack up billable hours at hospitals. Freak._

"When did I stand up?" Tony asked himself, vaguely worried that he did not recall taking that action. Nor was he encouraged that he was talking out loud to himself and expecting answers. "Doesn't matter. Stick to the plan. Step one: doorway." He paused as his eyes slid in the direction of the portal. "Doorways? Why are there three?"

He shook his head, instantly regretting the action, as he stumbled sideways and crashed into a wall yet somehow remained standing. Undeterred, he began inching his way along the wall toward the general area for entering and exiting the room. Reason told him there was only one doorway. He just needed to figure out which one was real. Basic trial and error would win the day, he hoped. After that, Operation Newtonian Physics would commence.

_Pep, honey, you were finally wrong_ _and I'm glad you don't know it_, he chuckled painfully as he edged closer to his escape route. _You said they were my friends. Well, they didn't even look for me. I can smell the damn Hudson River and can hear the Mid-Hudson Line twice a day from here. That means I can't be more than 50 miles from their damn decrepit base, but somehow they didn't find me. Only way that happens is that they didn't look._

It was a humbling thought, but something else overwhelmed his moment of revelation and self-pity. It was a logical outgrowth of his realization about his lack of a rescue. Sam (and whoever else still worked with him these days) probably had better things to do than look for a former (and now useless and dying) member of the team. Tony was certain that Rhodey would have looked for him. Peter, too. Tony's faith in their loyalty was boundless. That they hadn't found him and stormed the dilapidated mill meant they were, as he feared, dead. The acceptance of that hurt even more than the merciless and nauseating pounding in his head.

_Right behind you guys_, he thought miserably with a stab of sorrow for them in his chest.

**oOoOo**

Banner looked up as his computer screen flashed a result on the rapid element test he had just run on a blood sample Strange had brought with him on his return from the past. The doctor admitted to syphoning off a small vial of Tony's blood before giving him the last injection.

"You just walked into his room while he was recovering from having the shrapnel taken out of his chest so he didn't need to wear his reactor anymore and stole his blood?" Banner asked.

He kept his voice low to keep from disturbing his patient across the room. So far, Pepper had not reported any ill feelings or sensations. The baby's vitals were holding steady, but Pepper's temperature was rising. Banner didn't know what that meant, but he was chalking it up to stress and her body having a simple reaction to the injection.

"I was a renowned surgeon at the time," Strange reminded him, also speaking quietly. "I had privileges at that hospital. Tony's surgeon was a colleague of mine. He liked to brag. I let him for once. It got me a few minutes alone with the patient. Tony was still unconscious in the recovery room. He'd just gone through what was essentially heart surgery. One more needle prick wasn't going to make any difference."

Banner nodded then turned his screen so Strange could see it. There was a measurable level of dysprosium in the sample, yet the doctor did not look relieved.

"I thought it would be higher," Strange said. "That amount when added to the last dose I gave him is, theoretically, enough but I'd have liked to see it higher out of caution."

"Caution's not usually Tony's MO," Banner shrugged. "You did good here, Stephen. This gives him a chance."

"But the damage is already done," Strange reminded him as he sighed and looked toward the curtained off area where he had been told Pepper rested. "Has she been told we're back?"

Banner shook his head and said he thought it best to hold off until they had some good news before telling her. Strange shook his head. The physician in him thought disclosing information up front was best and would alleviate any stress that the anxiety of waiting would cause. He crossed the room and walked behind the curtain.

"You're back," Pepper said instantly, her eyes wide with worry. "Did you do what you needed to do?"

"All injections delivered," he replied. "I took a blood sample at the final procedure. We just tested it. There was a measurable about of residual dysprosium, just like we predicted. Considering that was more than 40 years since the first injection, it's impressive."

"But was it successful?" she asked.

"We won't know until they bring Tony back and we test his blood in the present," Strange replied.

She nodded tensely then gingerly rubbed her protruding belly. Strange held his tongue on the experimental procedure she had undergone. He shared Banner's theory for the most part, but he would have preferred a few more tests before running a trial. However, he agreed that the sooner the serum was administered, the better chance of success it would have (if it was going to work at all). Timing, as with all things, was a vital element. Strange looked at the desperate and fearful woman trying in vain to rest as she worried for half of her family's lives, and it struck him how much of this woman's life had been spent worrying.

She'd been Tony's assistant when he was taken hostage. She'd been the first to know he'd created the armor that turned him from billionaire weapons manufacturer into part-time superhero. She'd seen him attacked and watched him soar through a wormhole in the sky. She'd waited for weeks while he was adrift in the cosmos and then watched him finally die in front of her, whispering her name as his last word.

"What is it?" Pepper asked. "You have an expression that's… I don't know what it is, but it's there."

"Sorry," Strange shook his head. "I was thinking about time. It's an odd concept along with how much things change usually. I don't know what Tony told you about when he and I met. There came a moment when I looked into the future—every possible future—and I saw all possible outcomes."

Pepper nodded and stated that after returning from Titan, Tony mentioned Strange's bizarre peek into the future and how he saw only one chance for success but would not reveal what it was. That the chance ultimately resulted in her husband's demise was something she was glad neither she nor Tony knew at the time.

"Did you see this as his end?" she asked.

"I did not," Strange confessed. "I looked no further than the death of Thanos. I saw Tony die on the battlefield exactly the way it happened. There were more than 14 million other endings. Each of the others ended with everyone in the universe obliterated. There were slight differences in how we reached that end, but the result was always the same."

"So why are you looking at me with pity right now if you don't know what's going to happen next?" she wondered, thinking she had properly diagnosed his enigmatic expression.

"It's not pity," he corrected her. "It's awe with perhaps a touch of envy. I consider myself a consistent man, but I just realized now I've got nothing on Tony's ability in that category."

Pepper's brow furrowed as she shook her head mildly.

"Consistent?" she questioned. "Tony's erratic. Less so now than he used to be, but he's hard to predict with a lot of accuracy."

"Not in everything," Strange shook his head. "As I said, how we reached every ending was slightly different as the events leading up to it always changed. However, I was just realizing that there was one thing that never altered in what I saw—not once in more than 14 million possibilities. In every single one future I saw, Tony loved you and your name was always his last word."

Pepper pressed her lips together as she felt them tremble while tears, the first ones she had shed in this ordeal, leaked liberally from her eyes. She then cringed as the pain hit.

**oOoOo**

The team members on foot made their way swiftly and silently through the apron of trees that encircled the abandoned factory. They snaked alongside the sluggish river in the hot June afternoon. It was lost on none of them that approaching in daylight was ceding a vital strategic advantage to their target, but with time being a delicate factor they couldn't wait several hours for darkness to fall. However, nature seemed to sympathize with their plight as the sky grew darker with thick clouds that rumbled ominously.

The heavy humidity of the day was oppressive and foretold the brewing storm that began churning above them. The wind picked up and swirled angrily down the valley. This was great for dampening the sound of their approach, but it also did not allow them to speak over their communication network in whispers.

Peter, Bucky, and Barton approached on foot through the thicket. Sam, Thor and Rhodes soared in, having given the leprous brick structure a once-over from the air. When the foot team arrived, Rhodes boosted Barton to the empty roof as Peter quickly and nimbly scaled the side of the building. At the marked time, both teams staged their incursion. The bottom floor assault was led by Thor, who crashed through the rusted steel door like the Kool-Aid man of the 1980s. Bucky and Sam followed and found themselves instantly surrounded by what looked like a climactic scene from a zombie movie. Dozens of men and women (and even a few children who were too small to show up on the satellite images) set upon them with guns and crude weapons like lead pipes and knives. Their strength was on par with Bucky's, as proven by the woman who latched onto him from behind and flung him from the doorway into the middle of the mass of human drone soldiers. The horde were swiftly followed by the mechanical kind. The crude robots had glowing eyes as beams of burning light shot from them.

Thor howled in pain as one of the lasers grazed his arm. He launched his axe, decapitating the attacker, but immediately four human drones latched onto each of his limbs and began pulling in separate directions intent upon tearing him asunder.

"The mechanical ones are not much of an obstacle," he shouted at the back of Sam's head, "but the human ones enjoy biting."

Sam had noticed that as well when a set of teeth chopped onto his arm, but the ones on him were mechanical and dug into the flexible titanium of his wrist guards. A quick chop with his free arm dislodged the teeth. The robot attached to them crumpled and short-circuited, but a flying leap by a cohort of the hungry human drone variety swiftly collapsed him to the floor. Several more piled on, landing blow after blow of kicks and whacks with their weapons. The urge to shoot was strong, but he resisted—at least for those made of flesh. Instead, he released Red Wing and sent the mechanical bird on his own seek and destroy mission for anything that didn't have a heartbeat.

Bullets and burning rays flew from the bots but had no accuracy. They hit more of the mindless army than the Avengers. Ghost might have a mechanical army in his arsenal, but targeting software evidently was not his forte. However, regardless of how much the strategic advantage resided with the Avengers, they knew this was essentially a numbers game. They were outnumbered by humans that they preferred to protect (yet who were attacking them) and needed to shield both themselves and the human drones from the erratic robots.

"Oh man," Bucky shouted with a groan as he grabbed one bot and used it as shield to hold off another while human drones clawed at his legs and shoulders, "I hate dealing with amateurs. They always make everything harder."

**oOoOo**

At the base, Cap sat in the control room listening to the open channel broadcasting back what the team was experiencing. There was a lot of static due to the pop up storm that had gone from a warning rumble to a full on crash of thunder followed by lashing rains.

The team's chatter was broken and difficult to discern. There was heavy breathing and grunting and some yelps of pain. A few commands were barked, but only few words were intelligible. Fury leaned on a desk near one of the broadcasting speakers with his face stony and still.

"Gentlemen," he said finally with a forcefulness that was bordering on desperate, "lethal force is authorized."

"They're puppets, not participants," Bucky snarled back sounding like he was being strangled.

"You'd rather be corpses?" Fury replied.

Cap locked gazes with the Director and shook his head. Killing individuals who were going to be deemed innocent civilians once the battle was over simply was not an option for the team. They were a formidable force when facing an actual enemy, but this situation was far different from any they faced previously.

"This is a rescue mission," Cap reminded Fury. "There's more than just Tony who need help."

"Those are dead men walking," Fury countered. "We get the Ghost before he turns his horde into mobile bombs. Then we can save whoever is left. Right now, the Ghost is the primary target. Saving Stark is a prong two of this operation. Everyone else comes third."

"I thought the whole point of going in was to save Tony," Cap charged.

"It is," Fury replied dismissively. "He's the key. The Ghost wants Howard's formula. If that formula falls into the wrong hands—any hands at all other than ours—and the world becomes the most dangerous place it's ever been. Get the bad guy and save the hostage—two sides of the same coin, Captain."

Cap huffed and returned his focus to the signal streaming in from the mission as he began to silently pray.

**oOoOo**

Sam, Thor, and Bucky continued trying to wade through the sea of willing mechanical and unwilling human attackers while doing as little damage as possible to the ones that bled. Sam let it be known he thought it was time to rethink their plan for keeping casualties low. They could, he suggested, do what they needed to do to neutralize the threats around them (non-lethally) and bring in medical teams to bind up wounds and set broken bones when they were done. Bucky remained opposed and offered a few choice words for Sam on the subject.

"If you've got a better idea," Sam grunted as he took a fist to the chin (it took him a moment to determine it was human in nature), "I'm open for suggestions. I've got fresh zombies striking me right now, not inspiration!"

Thor lifted his head—no mean feat as two humans had grabbed fistfuls of his hair and were yanking him toward the ground as one of the robots kicked with the force of a small car at his knees. One Sam's prickled in his ears.

"I have an idea," Thor shouted as he flung off one of his human barnacles. "I may be able to interrupt the signal making these men resist us."

"No," Sam barked. "You can't electrocute them."

"Well," Bucky hedged, dodging laser shots as four robots descended on him, "what if he just zapped them a little? Might slow them down even if it doesn't stop them. Might also short out the robots."

"Can you control it?" Sam shouted to Thor from under a pile of clawing humans.

"We shall find out," he announced, tossing off two attackers without discerning their makeup. "I think it best if neither of you have your feet on the ground when this happens. On my signal, jump."

Sam struggled free and extended the wings of his suit, knee-capping two of the men who held him down in the process. He flailed his legs briefly, colliding with the head of a robot and breaking the nose of one of the humans as he prepared to launch. He cut his eyes to Bucky, who was racing toward what appeared to be a rope hanging from a rafter. As Sam left the ground, he aimed for Bucky's direction, lowering a hand to give the man a lift. Thor too left the ground with a mighty leap as he shouted the word: Now!

**oOoOo**

A charge rippled through Tony as pain lanced through his head, dropping him to his knees and leaving him clutching at the metal disc embedded at the back of his skull. It suddenly felt hot and tingly in an itchy way. Instinctively, he clutched at it. His nails dug in around the edges as the humming sensation grew stronger like it was pulsing. Ripping something from his head just seemed like a bad idea on so many levels, but the urge to do it and make the surging feeling emitting from the piece stop was stronger than logic. He gripped the edges tightly and twisted it, feeling his fingers grow slick with blood. The coppery smell made his stomach flip. One good thing about not being fed for however long he'd been there, Tony thought distantly, there was nothing to throw up when nausea hit.

He reached back with both hand and tore at the disc, feeling more than hearing himself scream as he did so. The room quickly faded to black. His vision returned after several hard blinks, but the room looked off as all color drained from his vision. Seeing the world in black and white was probably a bad sign, he decided as he struggled to his feet and ceased clawing fruitlessly at his head.

He felt woozy and confused. He didn't recognize his surroundings and the floor kept tipping sideways. There was thunder, yet it seemed to come from below his feet. The room elongated, like in a cartoon when the character needs to run a short distance that suddenly becomes ten times as long. He staggered forward, trying to keep his failing vision focused on the doors. Wetness coursed down his neck from where he tried and failed to rip the metal disc from his skull. He began to feel cold and oppressively sleepy.

After what seemed like miles and numerous tries, his hand brushed against the doorknob. His first attempt at turning it failed as his hands, unexpectedly wet with what his eyes reported was dark gray liquid but reason told him was likely actually bright red blood, slipped from the knob. Tony braced himself against the wall as his knees began to buckle and willed his hand to reach for the knob again and close on the handle tighter.

**oOoOo**

Rhodes reached the corner room on the top floor first. Over the mighty blast he heard as much as felt in the lower floor, he'd also heard a voice at the end of the all. It was just loud enough to penetrate the walls, but he heard it. He knew two things about it instantly. It was fueled by pain and the voice was Tony's.

Just behind him, Peter had kicked open a nearby door, no doubt having heard the same thing. Rhodes kept his mind focused ahead of him where the satellite indicated a corner room held the isolated body at the facility. He didn't bother scanning the room with his own infrared sensors. The whole building was shaking as though a bomb had gone off on the lower level. Fearing the floor would give way any second, Rhodes activated his palm repuslor and blasted the door inward.

**oOoOo**

The door in front of Tony (the one that he'd chosen using the scientific '_eenie, meanie, miney, moe_' protocol) turned into fragments and dust just as he reached for it. As it disintegrated, fast moving air with the force of a locomotive rushed into the room lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward.

_Just like Malibu_, Tony's mind reported as he sailed helplessly through the room. _At least Pepper's not here._

Unlike when his home in California became a target for terrorist missiles, he had less space to fly before striking the wall. He did so with a crunch then crumpled instantly. As crushing blackness enveloped him, he heard and saw no more.

**oOoOo**

Peter skidded into the room, leaping to Rhodes side where he crouched beside the collapsed body on the floor.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter yelled. "Sir, it's Peter!"

Rhodes held the teen back from moving the body while he did an assessment. From the crimson spot on the wall, it looked like Tony had been on his feet when the blast took apart the door. He then apparently slammed into the wall from the blast. A seeping wound at the back of his head meant at least a concussion but possibly something worse. Rhodes cursed himself. He'd been rash and impetuous, relying too much on his memory of the satellite image showing the body huddled protectively in the corner.

"Leave it to you to stand up just as the cavalry is about to charges in," Rhodes huffed at his friend as he pulled off his gauntlet and felt for a pulse. "How you manage to be more of a menace out of your damn armor than you are in it is a mystery of the universe. Why the hell don't you spend time figuring that out? That would be helpful. No, instead, you needle me about my sex life by making ET references."

"Uh, Colonel Rhodes," Peter interrupted. "Is he…?"

"He's alive," Rhodes reported as he lifted up one of Tony's eyelids. "He's unconscious and bleeding, but he's breathing and his pupils aren't blown. Good thing he's got a damn hard head. Okay, we gotta move him."

Peter nodded, trembling with fear. Every noise he heard had his senses twitching. So far, all the shouts and thuds were muffled and distant. It seemed like most of the fight was reserved to the lower floors. As Rhodes finished his triage of the patient (who was starting to stir a bit), he radioed to Barton that they were heading toward the roof.

"Clint, we're coming up," Rhodes announced.

"Empty-handed?" he asked.

"No, hands full," Rhodes replied then turned to Peter. "Kid, he's coming around. Get him to the roof."

"Should we move him?" he asked anxiously. "What if he's got broken bones or his neck is…?"

"He's bleeding outside so I'm putting money that he's bleeding inside," Rhodes said. "We need to get him out of here and back to the base. We'll get someone to fix whatever's broken when we get there, got it?" He then turned to the man on the floor and spoke in a fierce voice. "Tony, open your eyes! Now! You hear me? We gotta go!"

There was no reaction right off but after a few more shouts from Rhodes resulted in lifted eyelids. Tony's eyes, red where they should be white, rolled and struggled to focus, but he shifted slightly like he was trying to sit up. Rhodes took that as the signal to get moving. He grabbed Tony's arm and hauled him to his feet, throwing the limp limb over Peter's shoulder. The kid's enhanced strength would make up for the difference in Tony's inability to balance or walk. Rhodes ordered them out of the room, hanging back to act as the rear guard for anyone who might be coming up the stairs to check on the prisoner.

Peter moved at a steady pace, keeping Tony upright and close to him as the man's feet caught and clipped the edges of the stairs. The teen continually muttered words he hoped were encouraging rather than sounding panicked (which was how he felt). They burst onto the rooftop to meet whipping winds and lashing rain. Barton stood atop a raised air vent with his bow arched and ready to fire as Peter dragged his charge forward.

"Mr. Barton!" the teen shouted. "We need the jet thing here."

"One air taxi, coming up," Barton said then called for the delivery team to commence its approach. He then turned his attention to Peter's companion, who was being roused by the pelting rain. "Hey, Tony. Good to see you. So, I'm organizing a roast of you when all this is done. I've got a bet with your wife that you won't last 15 minutes sitting still and being quiet during it. You wanna lay any money on that, too?"

Tony stared at him groggily and thought about giving him the bird—purely as an acknowledgement for the man's codename. However, he had neither the strength nor the coordination at that moment. It was taking everything he had to draw his next breath and keep his head from sinking to his chest. His brain was foggy and sleep pulled heavily on him. He wasn't certain where he was or why he was there, but Barton seemed to have everything under control so Tony let his worries fade as quickly as the light around them seemed to while his knees turned to Jell-O. He thought it odd he didn't fall to the ground, but he was mostly beyond caring about those sorts of details. He just decided that his armor had developed a new protocol without his intervention, and it was now simply ambulating of its own accord while he was in it.

In the unfoggy world that was everyone else's reality, Peter kept a tight hold on Tony, moving over the rusted metal and crumbling tar paper covered roof. Barton directed Peter to the western edge of the building so they would not be in the way when the jet arrived. As they started in that direction, Rhodes appeared from the stairway. He quickly made his wait to them, reporting that the team on the lower level appeared to have everything under control but that the man responsible for this whole scenario was nowhere to be seen.

"That can be the other team's problem," Barton offered. "I say we get out of here. I'm not liking this setup. Sleepy over there needs a doctor, and I can't hear shit in this storm. I'm not even sure Hill confirmed my request for a ride."

Rhodes nodded, assuring his teammate that his call for the jet was received. He then took up position on Tony's opposite side.

"Tony, you still with us?" Rhodes asked and received a listless and confused look. "Yeah, I know. Where else would you be? Just checking. I'm just not used to you being quiet. I figured if you weren't gonna talk I needed to get some nonverbal sarcasm to convince me that you're okay."

The look he received in return was a clear (if weary) _fuck off_ that left Rhodes grinning. On the other side of Tony, Peter was staring his mentor with glassy eyes. His mind kept flashing to the battlefield months earlier when his own enhanced senses felt his mentor dying. The same sensation was washing through him again.

"Mr. Stark?" he croaked. "Hang on, sir. Please."

"Listen to your minion, Tones," Rhodes encouraged his friend. "Just keep your eyes open. We're taking you back to the base to get you fixed up. Hey, no! Don't do that."

He pulled Tony's hand away from where it reached for the disc embedded in his head. If Thor's report of everyone downstairs with one of those was accurate when he said they all suddenly gained free will again, it likely meant the device was deactivated. While it no longer posed a danger of blowing up, it was still stuck in Tony's head. The guy was so pale he looked like he couldn't afford to lose even a one more drop of blood. There was already a great deal of it on his clothing, oozing from various cuts on his face, around the edge of his mouth, and leaking from his ears. Rhodes kept up a steady chatter of encouragement as it appeared Peter was doing everything possible not to fall into a repeat of his last desperate moment at his mentor's side. The teen kept a firm hold on Tony while trying not to be rough. The man looked so weak that Rhodes was certain Peter feared he might break him.

"Any minute now," Rhodes promised. "We'll get on the jet and be at the base before you know it. Pepper and Morgan are there waiting for you."

**oOoOo**

As he made his way across the second floor to clear the building now that the captive was on the roof and preparing to be airlifted home, Sam found a room with a curious sight. The windows were covered in tar paper so Sam needed to activate his own remote lighting. He loosed Red Wing for the job to perch near the ceiling and flood the room with LED illumination. What he saw in that halo was shocking.

A man in rags sat huddled inside an impressive cage.

"Let me guess," Sam said. "You must be Mordo."

The man's eyes were hollow and hooded as he looked up. His skin sagged like he'd been on the verge of starvation for a long period. It hung from his face and form in fragile folds. He wore rags held together by luck more than thread. His voice, when he spoke, was thin and just barely above a whisper.

"You are not one of his," the man said. "If you do not kill him, he will do so to you."

"Yeah, sure, bad-assed bad guy," Sam huffed. "He's not even in the top 100 of his type I've met. I'll say again: Are you Mordo?"

"I was," the man replied. "Then my soul led me astray. Now, I deserve no name, no title. Vanquishing is all I merit."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. He approached the cage that held the man and peered at the lock. There did not appear to be any technology wiring it close or preventing someone with the right tools from opening it.

"Vanquishing?" Sam repeated. "Nah. Can I interest you in a new custody arrangement? If you're Mordo, then I know your boy, Strange."

"Stephen lives?" he questioned with a flicker of doubt and a flare of hope. "I have tried for longer than I can guess to see him, to hear him, but I cannot. I thought perhaps it meant he had perished."

Sam merely nodded. The guy had been helping a psycho do who knew what. He wasn't owed any information or explanations. Strange could decide whether to tell him why he stayed hidden once they had a face-to-face if Fury decided one was called for. Until then, the guy was an enemy non-combatant.

"You got one of those discs in your head?" Sam asked. "We think we disabled them but taking them out is another trick altogether. You rip 'em out wrong and it's goodnight for good, you got me? My team is your only hope of getting out of this with your head intact. So tell me this, there any more killer robots here that are putting you or me in danger?"

Mordo shook his head but also stated he knew nothing of robots. He then lifted his wrists to show manacles welded shut on each. The metal cuffs were etched with many odd symbols and letters. The bands, Mordo explained, kept him from using most of his cognitive skills and spells. He was bound within his own skin and hemmed into his mind.

"Well, let me tell you," Sam said as examined the cage door more closely, "I've fought robots more than once. Not a fan."

"Yet you enjoy the power of making one serve you," Mordo said critically as he nodded at the ceiling.

"No, no," Sam shook his head. "We're partners. This is Red Wing. He was a gift from the guy you helped your freaky friend kidnap."

"Stark," Mordo nodded.

"You know what your partner was doing?" Sam snarled. "We're all glad he brought Tony back, but he brought him back wrong."

Mordo explained that he never anticipated Tony being pulled out of time. Ghost received word from someone within the Avengers about the time travel plan as it was being attempted—someone within the compound who served a menial purpose at best. When Ghost found out where (and when) the team had gone, he forced Mordo to cast a spell—a dangerous spell that would have (and should have) killed Ghost, but his protective dysprosium suit allowed him momentary access to the ribbon of time that coursed through the universe. The man's first foray was unsuccessful, but he was close enough and elusive enough to the trio in 2012 to hear the plan to jump back further. Another prod at Mordo sent Ghost back further. When he saw Tony with his father in the past, the Ghost lost leave of what few senses he still had. His rage reached a boiling point, and he did as Mordo reluctantly taught him: He opened a portal to the mirror dimension. Ghost then did the unthinkable. He commanded Mordo using the disc in his head to cast a spell, pulling power from the dark dimension and his own soul, to stop time. There, in the mirror dimension, time had no meaning. Ghost tortured Tony, seeking revenge and information. Mordo could only watch for so long before his own will to do something, to interfere where he swore he never would, got the better of him.

With his manacles still off from his forced assist, Mordo created fissure in the mirror dimension. He had falsely assumed that Ghost's choice for the mirror dimension had been for the time in the past where they traveled. When Mordo opened the fissure, he never imagined that they had been coexisting in the present with the cataclysmic events occurring on the battlefield and had then surpassed those days. His efforts to end the torture then dropped the living body of Tony Stark at their position in Camp Lehigh at what turned out to be the days after the man's funeral. The cosmically impossible had happened. Tony was (and had been) alive in two places in the same timeline so that when one of them died, the other had maintained the living giving power of his soul.

The problem was, the rest of the body wasn't fairing so well having been yanked through time absent the necessary protective suiting of dysprosium Ghost used or the mystical protections Mordo invoked. Further, his soul was depleted and out of sync with the timeline, thus causing his soul to begin winding down to its ultimate stop, taking the body with it as entropy took over and his cells fell into chaos.

"These acts are not meant to happen anywhere at any time in the universe," Mordo explained. "The spells used do not work the way my master thinks they do. They are more of an illusion for they cannot maintain their existence in reality. There is always a price for such magic—a grave and dangerous price. It was not created for serve the purpose for which he used it. Tony Stark was your friend?"

"Was?"

"He is no more," Mordo said. "He cannot survive. He was unprotected by any means when this was done to him. Was he your friend?"

Sam blinked and inclined his head. They were not close, not the way Tony and Rhodes were or even the way Steve was with the guy, but Tony had been one of them. He came through when they needed him. He never refused the use of any of his tech toys. He was always open to requests and suggestions for something they needed that he could build (or buy). He wasn't easy to like or easy to work with all the time, but he was a member of the team.

"He's part of the family," Sam said. "And you helped hurt him."

"For your own sake, bid him farewell now," Mordo said. "This is no longer his time. He does not belong here. His essence is failing and will compel the universe to take him back, as it should."

Sam grunted noncommittally and ceased listening. They had a plan to deal with the problems Mordo had just described to him. Whether it worked was something only the scientists could determine. What Sam did know was that all this talk about souls and universal requirements rubbed him the wrong way. He recalled as a child that the crazy guy who lived at the end of his block talked like that, too: destiny and purpose. After everything Sam had seen in his life (and the fact that he himself had come back from the dead), he considered destiny to have as much to do with how life would unfold as Scooby-Doo cartoons had to do with law enforcement.

"I said goodbye to Tony once," he scoffed. "It didn't take so I'll be damned if I do it again so soon."

**oOoOo**

The fog in Tony's brain began to clear in relation to amount of pain he was registering. His chest ached like his ribs were made from broken glass, his head felt like it was cleaved in two by something blunt, and his knees were letting him know any dreams he had of skiing the Alps again needed to be forgotten. He lifted his head and squinted to see Rhodes in his armor (visor up) standing beside him looking toward the sky. Tony was immeasurably glad to see him and expressed it in a way only someone who had been the man's best friend for decades could.

"So you're not dead," he said.

"Figured that out on your own, huh?" Rhodes smirked. "Man, they don't just give away those IQ points, do they?"

"Took your damn time finding me," Tony mumbled in a slow, weak voice. "Again."

"Yeah, remind me never to play hide and seek with you," his friend replied. "Quit scaring me with your disappearing acts. That a bullet hole in your shoulder?"

As he asked, he tugged at the stained and stiffened fabric of Tony's shirt. It was soaked through from the rain making the days-old mark look like it oozed rust. The skin beneath was discolored and definitely infected, but a little probing revealed one bit of good news: an exit hole.

"Looks a little disgusting," Rhodes observed. "Might the bullet that hit me and went through my arm. Police never found it in the car. Guess that makes us blood brothers now."

"Already have the same blood type," Tony muttered.

Rhodes nodded, having forgotten that detail but glad to hear it, but not because it was important medically. It was just good to know Tony's brain was still functioning despite the blow to the head he had received. When he spoke, his speech was much slower than normal and barely above a whisper; although, Rhodes was ready to chalk that up to all the other ailments the man was suffering.

Tony then turned his head to the other side as he registered it was not armor or Rhodes keeping him upright. He blinked several times to confirm that his eyes were not playing tricks on him. Peter looked back at him with rapidly blinking eyes and a face spattered with what was mostly rain, but Tony suspected (from the redness of those eyes) there were tears.

"I revoked your membership," Tony charged faintly.

"Well, I think Mr. Wilson reactivated it," Peter explained. "And I kind of have Mrs. Stark's… I mean Pepper's permission. I told her I'd get you back. So, really I'm just following through so that I didn't lie to her—kind of like when I played co-pilot with you last week."

A week, Tony's hazy brain snatched onto the information. He had thought it was much longer than that. He nodded then regretted the motion as it sent waves of pain and dizziness through him that left the kid scrambling to readjust his grip.

"Hey, hey, hey," Peter warned. "Don't do that, Mr. Stark. Just stay awake, okay? Don't worry. I've got you."

Tony felt like he needed to correct the impression that it was the kid's job to take care of him in anyway. He was about to commence explaining to Peter that he was not a caretaker and that he needed to be back at school rather than standing in the middle of a monsoon on a roof somewhere. However, he never got the chance as suddenly the kid jolted backward.

It happened so suddenly that Tony wasn't entirely sure if he was the one who had stepped backward without warning. Fortunately, the jerk he felt made his knees lock for a moment. He looked down to see Peter sitting flat on the roof, looking stunned. In that instant, Rhodes's visor snapped down. Tony looked across the roof through the driving rain to see a silver figure at the door to the stairs leveling, of all things, a handgun.

_Seriously? The guy can time travel without Pym Particles, but he can't build a decent high tech weapon_, Tony's mind grumbled. _I'm kind of insulted he's just using bullets. It's so antiquated._

While Tony wrestled with feeling offended and remaining standing, Rhodes fired a repulsor blast at Ghost. However, the energy simply passed through his head-to-toe coverings. The energy instead struck the brick behind him and shattered it to dust in the wet wind. Barton pulled an arrow from his quiver and followed suit only to get the same result as the projectile sailed through the man then embedded in what remained of the wall behind him. The only armed person on the roof with any chance of hitting his target appeared to be Ghost, who pulled the trigger again.

Rhodes instantly took flight toward Ghost. Tony felt more than saw Peter scrambling to his feet from where the earlier bullet knocked him down. Tony knew distantly that the suit the kid wore would easily disburse the force of the shot. The fabric wouldn't allow penetration, and the kid's own super strength would barely feel the hit. He might, at worst, get a bruise, but those factors were not active in the part of Tony's brain that was in charge of his decisions or movement. What the commanding brain cells at that moment saw and understood were a mad man was shooting at them and Peter trying use his own body as a shield but without his mask on to protect his head. Panic spiked in Tony's chest. Instinctively, he threw his arm to the side, pushing Peter out of the way, then he stepped in front of the kid as the next bullet screamed at them.

Tony never fit the impact. He never heard Peter's scream. He never knew his heels left the roof as the force of the bullet knocked him backward, sending him free-falling toward the rock bank of the river far below. He never felt the last minute tug of Peter's hand grabbing his arm after the teen dove desperately after him, slinging a web to act as a lifesaving bungee cord in an effort, catching him just before Tony hit the ground but unable to save him from what sent him over the edge in the first place.

**oOoOo**

Inside the mill, Bucky raced up the stairs, taking three steps per stride. He rounded the third floor switchback when the spandex clad man who threw him out of a building in New York appeared. Ghost barreled at him while tearing down the stairs in a sprint. His head was free of his cowl, but the rest of his body was encased in the silvery fabric.

"I owe you ride down without an elevator," Bucky said, blocking his escape.

Ghost grinned then raised a hand and pointed a small, gold colored tube at him. Rather than wait to see if it squired poison or a death ray, Bucky did what he should have done the first time he encountered the freak: aim for the exposed pieces. He simply shot his metal arm forward, connecting that time with the metal piece and knocked the device from Ghost's hand. As he dove for it, Bucky repeated the effective process and aimed for visible skin on the man. He dropped his fist and drove it into Ghost's bare jaw. Absent the shiny covering the rest of Ghost's body enjoyed, his chin remained solid as the blow hit. There was a satisfying crunch followed by a whimper as the man collapsed like a bedsheet falling off a clothes line.

"Okay, that was too easy," Bucky complained as he nudged the unconscious man with the toe of his boot. "Seriously? That's all you got? Come on. I wanted a challenge. Get up, or bite my ankle. Come one. Do something. Buddy, this is embarrassing. It's like I cold cocked Steve when he was still little and skinny and wheezed a lot. Great. It's like I punched a toddler."

As he grumbled his disappointment, Bucky listened as the commentary over the comm link. Reports seemed to indicate not everyone was having as easy of a time. Something was happening on the roof, but weather was making that channel hard to hear. On the ground floor, Thor was debating with someone (maybe a lot of someones), and Sam was ordering someone to lay on the floor facedown and keep his hands visible. Bucky sighed and tapped his prisoner again with his boot. He shook his head and reminded himself why science guys were generally not good in combat.

"All strategy and theory, no strength or execution," Bucky sighed.

The man at his feet twitched suddenly then made a clumsy swipe at the device that got knocked from his hand. Bucky grabbed it first using his metal hand just in case it was less innocuous than it looked. There was a small button on one side. It hummed and vibrated in his metal palm.

"Oh, dirty fighting is your thing, huh?" Bucky guessed as he pointed the device at his captive then pressed the button to watch the man go rigid and quiver before slumping into a puddle at his feet. "Guys like you messed with me for decades. How do you like it? You deserve a lot worse than this."

His lip curled in disgust as the urge to stomp his boot onto the man's already bleeding face increased. The only thing that stopped him was Sam calling to him.

"Barnes," he demanded. "Report. Man, where did you go?"

"Stairs between on the third floor," Bucky said in a bored tone. "You know, I think we could have sent the kid on this op alone. I'm feeling over-qualified for tagging along. Anyone got any bad guys who know how to hit back?"

"No," came Sam's flat response, "but I got a dude in a cage if you want to get down here and take care of this lock for me."

Bucky replied in the affirmative as he looked down at his charge. The guy was breathing but otherwise showed no signs of movement or hints he would be getting up anytime soon.

"Be there in a second," Bucky said. "I've got Ghost, but I think we should change his name. Toast is more accurate. He's a crumby adversary. Oh, and he's not really up for walking just so I'll have to drag him down with me."

Sam questioned why he wasn't carrying the man if he was not mobile. Bucky's response was simple: The guy didn't deserve to be carried.

"No Geneva Convention issues here, right?" the former assassin remarked.

"Do not drag him down the stairs on his face," Sam ordered. "I understand the urge, but just don't do it."

"Fine," Bucky huffed. "For the record, I broke his face when I took custody of him initially, not when I removed him."

Sam's groan served as an acknowledgement and was heard by all. It was partial relief and a lot more '_don't tell me_ _what you're doing_' to preserve his own deniability if he was asked later what he thought occurred. He frankly didn't care of the guy got bounced down the stairs and into a few walls. He'd turned nearly 50 people into walking weapons against their will (which explained Bucky's desire to inflict pain on the guy) and was responsible for the death of one of Sam's men, two med techs, and a doctor, not to mention whatever damage he'd inflicted on the object of the mission.

As Sam waited for Bucky to arrive, Thor's voice crackled over the airwaves.

"Speaking of removal, our new friends here would like those nasty metal circles taken out of their skulls," the Asgardian reported, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "They're quite adamant about it and growing a bit restless. I've told them it doesn't seem wise to pull them out on their own, but not all are listening to me. I'm trying to be friendly about this, but I don't seem to be viewed as an authority."

_Steve never had these kinds of problems_, he grumbled to himself before replying. He snapped out his response in a terse voice.

"Tell them you're a god, and that you're the dude responsible for turning those damn things off," he offered.

"Yes, well, I started with something along those lines," Thor reported. "That's when they decided to inform me of some side effects from the little jolt I gave them. Apparently, it burned a bit—and not all in the spot where the metal resides. There also seems to be some worry that I've sterilized them and have possibly caused some permanent hair loss in those regions as well."

Bucky's laugh carried clearly over the comm link (accompanied by a telltale thumping sound like he was dragging a bag of potatoes down some steps). Sam groaned and scrubbed a palm down his face in weary frustration.

**oOoOo**

Years of training told Rhodes to go after the shooter. Years of friendship (hell, brotherhood) with Tony told him to instead save his friend. In the end, it was Barton who made the call.

"Go with the kid," he shouted, pointing at the spot where both Tony and Peter disappeared over the edge. "Barnes has the guy!"

Without pausing to think if it was the proper decision, Rhodes flew toward the ground. As he landed, he found Peter cradling Tony's head and shoulders. Peter was breathing rapidly as he begged Tony in a cracking voice with the simple repeated word "please." Rhodes, shouted into his comm for help but heard only static as lightning (and possibly Thor's earlier jolt) wreaked havoc with communications. He knelt beside the two on the ground and tore at Tony's shirt where a large pool of crimson bloomed and a fresh bullet hole resided.

"Oh man, don't do this," Rhodes seethed as he immediately put pressure on the wound. "Tony! Tony! Don't you go, man. Not now. Not like this! We found you! We're taking you home! Stay with me. Open your eyes! Tony!"

**oOoOo**

Static filled the comm links as another clap of thunder shook the building. Sam thought he heard voices through his earpiece, but a soft buzzing sound followed. He tapped the piece several times then barked an order demanding an update.

"Who was just talking?" he asked. "Barton, where's your team at?"

"I'm heading for the ground," Barton shouted over the channel with an unusual force of urgency as wind whistled along with his words.

"What?"

"I'm rappelling from the roof," he answered. "We need emergency medical, west side of the building!"

"The roof?" he asked. "Stark?"

"Yes on Stark, no on the location," Barton replied tersely and grunted as his feet hit the ground and he began running to where his teammates huddled. "We're on the ground by the river. It doesn't look good."

All awkward humor from the Asgardian's earlier reports vanished. He was no longer amused at possibly (and accidentally with all good intentions) frying the private parts of the horde that had attacked them on Ghost's digital command. His sudden tension created a wide berth around him as the former human drones began backing away.

"What happened?" Thor's demanded. His voice was loud and held an edge of anger.

"He was a mess when Rhodes and the kid brought him out," Barton replied, sounding winded. His voice was sharp but barely audible over the storm that buffeted them on all sides and drenched them. "They were near the edge of the roof waiting for transport when Silver Fancy Pants turned the place into a shooting gallery. I took a shot at him, but—and I'm not making this up or exaggerating—the arrow went through him. I mean completely through like he was a hologram. Then guy the guy bolted down the stairs. Barnes, got on the way down."

"Roger that," Bucky offered. "He didn't get far."

In between the thunder and wind gusts, Barton recounted how the brief firefight knocked Tony backward and over the roof edge plummeting toward the ground.

"He fell?" Thor asked.

"The kid caught him," Barton replied. "But he was shot first."

"How bad is he hit?" Sam asked.

"Took one in the chest," Barton reported tensely.

"Shit," Bucky's voice snapped over the air. His words came in a huff, and the bumping sound following him increased in rapidity leaving no one listening with any doubt he was in fact now running (while dragging his prisoner, possibly an ankle or possibly on his face) behind him. "He still alive?"

"Rhodes is applying pressure still so he's got a pulse," Barton said but his voice cracked on the end. "Bullet hit a lung for sure. Not sure what else."

"Hill, you copy that?" Sam demanded.

"We are inbound," she answered. "Be there in 20 seconds."

"Make it five," Barton ordered.

**oOoOo**


	39. Chapter 39

**oOoOo**

Cap bowed his head and clasped his hands as he listened to the choppy communication coming from the team. He closed his eyes, picturing the scene from their reports:

Barton directed the scene as the Quinjet sank through the clouds into the deluge through the squall assaulting the area. Rhodes was muttering softly under the intermittent static to the casualty to keep his eyes open and hang on. Thor's voice, sounding slightly breathless as he restrained himself from shouting, was ordering someone (most likely Peter) to move away as he took charge of moving the injured party from the ground to the jet.

It was a hard image to picture for the retired soldier, not because he couldn't imagine it but because he could and didn't want to as he had lived versions of it himself. He'd seen men killed on the battlefield—had in fact watched the very man they were trying to save die—and it was never easy. Cap closed his eyes and began bargaining with the universe not to bring the conclusion that the anxiety and desperation he heard in his former teammates' voices indicated was coming.

Throughout the chaotic minutes following the first distress call, Hill's voice was the one that remained steady. She was commanding the extraction team after shuttling support to the site from the base. Although her voice remained unflappable, her words were not encouraging.

"Away team loaded and lifting off," she reported. "ETA four minutes. Trauma assistance requested at the landing site. We are not, repeat, NOT in possession of a stasis cradle."

"Copy that," Fury offered, jerking Cap from his concentration, as he noted the man leaning on the table beside him wearing a knotted expression.

The rest of the report was prosaic. Support teams had deployed and were joining Sam and Bucky to take possession of the two prisoners and maintain control of the scene. Medical help was being offered to the former drone soldiers as needed. On that front, the plan was working well. Ghost was still unconscious but stripped of his menacing suite. He was also in restrains. There was a high level of confidence that he would not slip them as Bucky was taking an extreme interest in keeping the man within his sights. Mordo was also restrained but showed no signs of resistance. The former drones appeared generally unharmed other than some electrical burns and a tense desire to have metal discs removed from their skulls. A team of technicians would be dispatched soon to begin that process; they just needed Harley (who was oblivious to what had just occurred) to finish drafting the protocol he discovered for safely removing the discs.

By the numbers, the mission was a success. The majority of those involved in that days' events would survive. The strike team was unharmed. The sticking point for the team, however, wasn't that they were virtually untouched. The problem was their primary objective. He was hemorrhaging and rapidly losing his grip to life as his airlift streaked toward the base desperately hoping for a miracle. Cap looked at Fury with weary, worried eyes as images of Tony (who he had just met as a child and teenager multiple times so recently) assaulted his mind.

"Do we tell Pepper?" Cap asked, standing up in anticipation of being given that duty as he believed he would be the best choice for the unpleasant task.

"And say what?" Fury questioned. "We don't have all the information yet."

"We rescued Tony, and we know he's gravely, possibly mortally, wounded," Cap said through clenched teeth at the man's obstinacy. "You've got what you wanted. Your security threat is neutralized. The other part of this mission, the part that team signed up for, was getting Tony back. Pepper has a right to know what's happened."

"I'll take that under advisement," Fury huffed then strode out of the room, leaving Cap glaring and gaping but with no other recourse.

The Director walked with long, determined strides toward the lab in search of one of their guests. As he approached the door leading to Banner's lair, it opened and the man he sought walked into the hall as though summoned. Strange wore a shrewd look on his face as he looked at Fury with concern.

"Who is it?" he asked curtly, instinctively knowing there was a serious casualty coming in. "A few techs just grab medical gear and ran. Someone's been hurt."

Fury gave no name but offered the few details he knew about the injuries to patient and looked to the former neurosurgeon for an assessment. The doctor winced before bowing his head and sighing.

"Is it Tony?" he asked.

"I asked for an assessment," Fury demanded.

The doctor looked at him with a pale face and defeated eyes. He shrugged and shook his head.

"If what you've been told is accurate," he began, "you're looking at a punctured, collapsed lung, possibly perforated artery, and massive internal bleeding. A patient's chances of survival from that are slim. Maybe 15 percent at best, even if there is an exceptional trauma team on hand to render aid. I've been in your medical bay. You're precisely one exceptional trauma team short of having the necessary, competent help you need. You don't even have the supplies to tackle that kind of wound."

Fury seethed and scowled through his rock hard expression.

"Then it's time you help Dr. Banner make a call," he said tightly and nodded. "They'll be on the ground in two minutes."

"Call who?" Strange asked then blanched as he read the director's nod at his hands. "You want my long distance skills, not my medical ones?"

Fury nodded.

"Get it done, Doctor," he ordered. "Keep those in the know as few as possible. That jet is almost to the landing zone."

Strange huffed and threw up his hands in defeat. The only way this day ended in anything other than tragedy was for him to do (yet again) what he knew was considered cosmically wrong: employ his mystical skills for something other than the planet's greater good. He made that observation and objection to Fury in an indignant tone.

"You think the world is better off without Tony Stark in it?" Fury asked, offering the confirmation on the patient's identity. "You can say no, but then I'll just think you're a liar. Nothing says you have to like someone to need them and see their value."

Strange scowled.

"I never said I didn't like Tony," the doctor remarked, thinking annoyance and dislike were cousins but not the same.

"I know that," Fury informed him. "If you wanted no part of saving him, then you wouldn't have done your hopscotch through the past to save him. I get you don't want to take out the magic ring because your Zen teacher told you long ago not to do that. Well, let me share a little lesson from a guy who taught me a thing or two of value very long ago: You can't always get what you want."

Strange scoffed and shook his head.

"Shall I find irony that the lyric is from a song on the Rolling Stones, LP '_Let It Bleed_'?" he asked then added (because he could not help himself), "although, the single was released on July 4, 1969, as the B-side of '_Honkytonk Women_.'"

"I'd rather you just started to…," Fury said then waved his hands in a pantomime before walking away then pivoted back briefly. "And I didn't say I learned it from the Stones. I said '_a guy_.'"

"You know Mick Jagger?" Strange asked with the vaguest hints of awe and jealousy as his eyebrows arched.

"You want to meet him?" Fury asked then gestured to the man's hands still resting at his sides. Strange scoffed then adjusted his cuffs as he lifted his arms. "Then I suggest you commence with all efforts on helping the incoming patient."

"The invite for an introduction is contingent upon Tony's survival?" Strange guessed.

"Has to be," Fury replied as he turned down the hall again. "Stark's the one who knows the band. Knows Springsteen, U2, and the guys from Led Zeppelin, too, if that's any encouragement for you. He's generous when you really get to know him."

"Right," Strange scoffed as he made his way back into the lab.

As he entered, he was greeted by Banner's questioning face and an otherwise empty room. Pepper had been moved to a room down the hall before the commotion began. Banner wanted her to rest after she began suffering through a few contractions. Her daughter was now with her as well under the watchful (if fretting) eyes of Happy Hogan.

"The guys who ran down the hall with the gear, was that for someone on the team?" Banner asked in a way that struck the doctor as entirely too naïve to have been an Avenger. "Someone's hurt? Did they find Tony?"

Rather than reply verbally, Strange offered a beleaguered sighed and nodded. What he was about to do was considered wrong by all his teachers and fellow sorcerers. It was an affront to their unwritten code of remaining neutral in the affairs of men until they strayed into shadows sufficiently evil to threaten existence on a supreme scale (which basically meant never… or it used to until the world changed without anyone giving the proper notice). He reasoned that Fury was correct in that Strange did feel it was proper to help this one man; although, he was finding it difficult to express why. Then again, he was now in so deep with a mission he had wanted no part of (beyond learning if his theory about Tony was correct and getting his former mentor out of the clutches of a madman who was using Mordo's knowledge for violating cosmic rules) that he didn't see where getting his hands a little dirtier would matter.

"For the record," Strange groused as his cloak whipped behind him with equal indignation, "I fully acknowledge that acts like this are what made Mordo go rogue in the first place. When they bring him him here, you need to back me that he is mine to deal with first—no one else's. I'd also appreciate it if you didn't tell him what you're about to see me do."

"Why?" Banner asked, stepping back, uncertain what the man was about to attempt.

"It seriously reduces my moral authority and overall integrity to accuse him of violating universal laws right after I've used sorcery's centuries-long tightly held secrets to act as a doorman," Strange grumbled. "I'll need your help for this, Bruce. The people we're going to see to in a minute know you, not me."

Bruce nodded but remained confused. He asked what had happened and what was going to happen next.

"The team didn't have a clean exit," the doctor said simply. "They need more advanced medical help than what exists here, and your director isn't interested in cluing in the U.S. medical community about the patient."

Strange then looked at the wall opposite him. There was a large storage cabinet and stainless steel shelving unit. Although it technically was not in the way for what he was about to do, it would be best if the room had more space available, he decided. The surgeon in him preferred to have all impediments removed from the immediate area before he started any procedure. That he would not be using a scalpel for this one did not matter. He had a process and certain preferences.

"Move that," he commanded Banner.

"Why?" Banner asked but moved toward the cabinet. "Where?"

"I don't care," Strange replied. "Crush it into a football. Just get it out of the way, all of it. I want everything on that side of this room out of my way and nothing blocking the doors behind me."

Banner did as commanded. He grabbed the cabinet and crushed it into an accordion shape that was nearly as flat as a pancake. He then stripped off the shelves and crumpled them into a wad the size of a basketball like they were paper. The noise the restructuring made drew the attention of their closely-observed guest (with Wanda just steps behind him, her fingers glowing softly red just in case).

"Such excitement," Loki observed as he poked his head into the room. "What exactly are you doing now?"

"Getting help," Strange replied as he lifted his hands and began to rotate them as golden sparks appeared.

"Oh no," Loki shook his head and stepped back. "I refuse. You can tell my oaf of a brother that he can take his meaty hands and shove his axe up his…"

"Why are you still talking?" Strange said, then jerked his head at his green assistant. "Bruce, do something with him."

Banner tossed a warning look at Loki, who shirked at the attention. Wanda flexed her wrists, but Loki merely raised his hands in surrender.

"I was just commenting on my lack of interest in participating in your latest intrigues," he said. "I also remind you that I am a guest here—one who has been helpful thus far. Your sudden and unprovoked hints of aggression are precisely why I am not a great fan of Midgard."

There was neither the time nor the interest in engaging him in conversation as Strange straightened his elbows and began moving his right hand in a tight, counter clockwise motion. Golden sparks emitted from his sling ring. Instantly, a portal formed as the wall opposite them dissolved. Banner approached the opening and greeted the surprised man he faced on the other side. Although shocked by the nature of the intrusion, he had a regal air and unsmiling face. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped through the golden tunnel to the base while a host of others with similarly grave expressions waited in the place where he formerly stood.

"Dr. Banner," T'Challa said sternly, "my security team just received an alert from Director Fury that you needed to speak with me and require our medical assistance. What is happening?"

"We have an emergency and need a favor," Banner began sheepishly. "I don't have the details yet. This was Nick Fury's idea, but Stephen, Dr. Strange that is, knows more about it than I do."

"True but," Strange added with a sharp glare at the vacillating scientist, "if you want to kill the messenger, technically that's Fury. I'm just the doorman."

**oOoOo**

The flight to the base was mere minutes on a clock but felt like an eternity to everyone on board. Barton had broken into the emergency medical provisions and sunk an IV into Tony's arm. The hope was to replace the lost volume of blood with basic fluids and prevent the patient from stroking out or going into full-blown cardiac arrest due to hypovolemia. The plasma he was getting seemed to rouse him sufficiently to keep his eyes open but did nothing to stop the internal hemorrhaging from the long-term aliment plaguing him nor the gunshot wound.

Rhodes maintained pressure on the wound while holding an oxygen mask to his friend's face while doing his best not to break into tears. He stared directly back into Tony's unfocused gaze, offering him less than a smile but no shade of fear or worry (or so he hoped). Blood soaked Tony's chest as he struggled for each breath. Thor gripped one of his hands and continually murmured everything was going to be alright, and they were nearly where the necessary help was waiting.

"You will be fine, Stark," Thor assured him. "Help is waiting and will bind up these wounds swiftly. Then you and I shall talk. I have many new exploits to convey that you will find intriguing. Do not fear that your pains now are dire. You are not alone. Your friends are here and we shall see that you are cared for returned to good health. You have survived much worse than this."

If he could have found his voice, Rhodes would have thanked him for his words; they were warm and sounded confident and convincing despite being mostly bald-faced lies.

Peter tucked himself beside the stretcher beside Rhodes. His trembling hand rested on Tony's arm. Tears leaked from the teen's eyes unwillingly as he breathed unsteadily through his nose and mouthed the words '_please, sir_' and '_I caught you_' over and over like a panicked mantra. Rhodes didn't bother to tell the kid to stop. Tony likely couldn't hear him anyway. Thor's voice was louder, but Tony's eyes were not on him. He kept his confused and panicked gaze focused on what was directly above him: the familiar face of Rhodes.

The jet touched down with feather softness. Instantly, a medical crew stormed in and swiftly moved the patient. They doubled-timed it out the cargo bay door with the others running alongside to keep pace. Peter kept hold of his mentor despite being told by the techs that he should step back. Rhodes was relieved of his medical duties but found he could not break away as Tony grasped his arm. His fingers, slick with his own blood, slipped from the metal of Rhodes's armor but made another desperate snatch prompting Rhodes to continue alongside him. He lock eyes with his best friend again and saw fear reflected back at him.

"Tony, it's okay," Rhodes said. "We're here. You're gonna be fine. Just hang on."

Tony gasped and swiped clumsily at the oxygen face mask, dislodging it so his weak and drowning voice could be heard.

"Get… him…," Tony gasped, his voice barely audible over the urgent chatter of those around him.

"Don't worry about that nutjob," Rhodes assured him. "We got him. Barnes left a few marks on him."

"No," Tony pleaded and cut his eyes sharply to the side then back to his friend. "Get… him… away."

Rhodes caught the frantic movement and saw Peter was the person Tony was talking about. A stab of pain lanced through him as Tony's original, last desperate moments (the ones just before he died on the battlefield) flashed in Rhodes' mind. He'd had to pull Peter away then as well. The fear that it was about to happen again shook Rhodes. This time, it was harder. Unlike the deadly snap, Tony hadn't chosen this. He hadn't signed up for it. He wasn't a combatant any longer. He wasn't in this position because he was protecting the world as an Avenger. He was the one who had needed protection and instead ended up with his toes on the edge of his grave once more. Rhodes's best friend, his closest friend, his brother in every way but DNA, was dying in front of him again and had one last request.

"Rhodey," Tony croaked as Peter's keening to his mentor grew more strangled with desperation. "Please."

Rhodes nodded as tears blistered in his own eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend at that moment, but what Tony needed was for someone to take care of Peter, the one person in his vicinity that he deemed in need of protection. It didn't matter that the kid was nearly as strong as Thor or that he had as many high tech tricks in his suit as Rhodes did. Tony saw the kid as vulnerable and heard the pain in the teen's voice. He knew, had been told previously, how the kid reacted the last time Tony died, and how Peter suffered under the sadness and ache from the memory of it. Rhodes swallowed hard and gave curt nod of comprehension and assurance then did what he adamantly did not want to do: He left Tony.

He broke free of his friend's grasp and left him to the ministrations of strangers. Rhodes activated his full armor (he'd need it to counter the kid's enhanced strength) and turned to Peter. He wrapped his arms around the teen, holding him in place, to keep him from following the stretcher. The kid flailed against the restraint, yanking and thrashing against behind pulled away. His shouts cut through Rhodes's helmet and echoed hauntingly in his ears.

"No!" Peter cried out. "Let me go! LET ME GO! Mr. Stark, I'm here. MR. STARK!"

His fighting stance was unstable as he shook with range and fear. Peter's blows glanced off Rhodes' arm, but the fit had a deep hold on the teen. He nearly slipped free from Rhodes, but another set of powerful arms latched onto him as well.

"Be still!" Thor commanded in a booming voice.

Tears welled in his pale eyes as he too wrapped his arms around Peter to keep him in place as his voice faltered.

"Parker," he said firmly, "you can't help Stark, but your sorrow can still hurt him. Do you want his last memory to be your pain?"

The words hit Peter like a blow from Mjölnir. His chest heaved, and his eyes were furious, but when he turned to the Asgardian god it wasn't to swing. Instead, he flung himself into the powerful Avenger's arms as sobs of pain rocketed up his throat just as his knees gave way. Rhodes stood by, watching the scene stomp what was left of his own heart then met Thor's eyes. The man jerked his head to the side, dismissing Rhodes. Thor mouthed the word "go", allowing Rhodes to be where he wanted and needed to be while knowing Peter was in strong, firm, comforting hands. Rhodes nodded in return then raced toward the building where the medical team had entered, intent on being at his friend's side so that Tony would not die in the company of strangers.

"We found him," Peter wept, his breath and words stuttering out of him. "We got him back… I tried to save him… I caught him… He fell, but I caught him… He didn't hit the ground because I caught him… He should have been safe… This wasn't supposed to happen."

Thor released a mighty breath as the pain of loss flared in his chest at their failure. His long-gone and deeply-missed father's words came to him.

"Life gives us nothing that it cannot take away," he counseled slowly and sagely as tears raced into his beard while he held the sobbing, shaking teen. "The lesson is to appreciate those who mean the most to us while we still have them and to cherish the warm memories that remain when they are gone."

"We had him," Peter cried. "We were right there, but we… He… He stood in front of me… I was too slow to… I didn't save him."

"We arrived as soon as possible," Thor assured him. "We did all that we could. Shielding you from that bullet was instinct."

"But I could have taken it," Peter argued.

"He couldn't let you," Thor replied with a watery smile. "Five years ago, Stark watched you die. His failure to protect you then hurt him profoundly. I know something about feeling you failed those who you believe it is your place to protect. Given a second opportunity to see those you care about come to no harm is not something he could ignore. You fight the battles of men, but you a still a child in many ways. You do not yet see it is a gift to have someone care for you that deeply. Parker, you mean too much to Stark. He was incapable of standing idly by and doing nothing when you were in danger."

Peter swiped his hands across his reddened and puffy eyes as he shook his head. He argued that he was wearing his Iron Spider suit. It could deflect bullets. He was in no danger.

"Where is your mask, boy?" Thor asked. "You head appears unprotected by this suit you find so formidable. You said you were down and just starting to stand up when the bullet came. It hit Stark in the chest. It would seem likely that this is the mark the bullet would have otherwise found."

As he spoke, he touched the middle of Peter's forehead sending a chill down the teen's spine. He hung his head in defeat as more miserable tears dripped from his eyes. He mumbled about not being better at his job that day.

"We did not fail," Thor informed him. "We simply did not succeed. There is a difference between them that is subtle but important. So is this: Stark knows we came for him. He knows he was not alone. He knows you were there, and that you are unharmed."

"I can't lose him again," Peter choked. "I wanted to save him."

With a rough but bracing pat on the shoulder, Thor offered a piece of advice his mother once taught him.

"What we want and what the universe will allow are not always the same," the Asgardian replied dismally as he offered the teen another embrace of support as both wept with grief.

**oOoOo**

Rhodes hustled down the hallway and stood in the doorway of the med bay where bedlam reigned. Bloody gauze littered the floor. Commands were shouted. Medical personnel huddled around the table. Strange was there acting as a ring master in more ways than one. He was calling out orders as a portal opened in the wall. The medical team, apparently expecting the golden gateway to another place, moved in unison sweeping the gurney through the mystical doorway. On the other side, Rhodes spied Shuri and several other Wakandans. He blinked then looked to the other side of the medical bay as Strange glanced in that direction. T'Challa stood very still, watching the proceedings, as he nodded back.

"Why are you here?" Rhodes asked as the team completed its transit and the portal closed, sealing away the chaos and patient on a continent across the Atlantic.

"Dr. Banner and Dr. Strange contacted us," the ruler of Wankanda said.

"So, we sent Tony to your place and you came to hang here?" Rhodes nodded, speeding up the story as he cast his eyes to the space on the wall where the portal had disappeared. "Great. Welcome to the party. Sorry you didn't get an invite sooner. We could have used you. What can your people do for Tony?"

"That remains to be seen," T'Challa said. "I never knew Stark personally; however, like Dr. Banner who returned my people and me, we owe a debt to your friend. Tony Stark sacrificed his life to remove the threat of Thanos forever. The people and resources of Wakanda will assist him now in any way possible."

Rhodes nodded and swallowed as a sour question formed in his mouth. He was not sure he wanted the answer but knew he had to ask: Could they save Tony? T'Challa's chin dipped, and he sighed heavily

"We can work miracles when science permits it," he said sagely. "I make you no promises other than this: If he can be saved, we will do it."

Rhodes turned to Strange and begged for a prediction but only received a shrug. The former surgeon offered a stony expression.

"I opened a portal for medical emergency transport," he said sternly. "There's nothing more I can do. Look, there are only two possible outcomes here. Tony lives, or he dies. My medical training tells me we'll know that answer fairly quickly."

What he didn't add was the rest of his opinion: The man had lived on borrowed time that had run out finally. Strange felt marginally responsible for the suffering Tony had endured since his return as it was his own mentor who had made the abduction of Tony from the past possible. Mordo had fallen into the wrong hands and his knowledge was used to create the havoc he sought to end. The report from the team that he had been under electronic control by the man calling himself Ghost was some consolation to Strange, but the end result was the same. Nearly 50 people, who life had roughed up all on its own, were turned into electronic marionettes. Several SHIELD personnel were dead as part of Ghost's plans. Tony Stark was brought back to be tortured for a formula that could bring devastation to the world, and now he was dying in an agonizingly painful way far from his family and friends. In his brief return, he'd fathered a child who would likely die, leaving Pepper Potts doubly devastated all because Strange never looked for his mentor when they parted company so sourly years earlier.

_Karma bites us all eventually_, he thought blithely.

Rhodes stared at him, not satisfied with anyone's resignation for the inevitable. He huffed, not liking Strange's unhelpful answer or composure. Rhodes set his jaw firmly then barked an order at the wizard.

"Send me to Wakanda," he insisted as he pointed at the wall where the team had vanished moments earlier.

"You can't help him," Strange replied.

"I didn't ask you," Rhodes said then cut his eyes to T'Challa for support. "Tony's my family so if he's going to die, I'm not letting him die alone."

The King of Wakanda bowed his head then nodded and sighed.

"Leave your armor," T'Challa advised. "You will be safe from harm in my country, and you will be more comfortable without it."

T'Challa then looked to Strange with a commanding gaze. Rhodes stepped out of his metal cocoon but not before grasping the palm-sized injector stored in one of the side compartments. His arm throbbed at the point where the broken bones were just beginning to mend, but he held tightly to what Carol Danvers gave him before she departed. He didn't know what medical wonders Wakanda had, but he was going to offer the Xorian Elixir to them as possible help in their procedure.

With a reluctant sigh, Strange activated his sling ring again and opened the portal once more. Rhodes disappeared as swiftly as Tony. As soon as he was gone, T'Challa spoke.

"Is there someone who can bring me Stark's clothing?" he asked Banner, who had hung back and watched the commotion with a dire expression.

"His clothes?" he questioned. "What for?"

"We will prepare the body so that he is returned with dignity for burial," T'Challa answered ruefully. "My people are advanced, but even their technology cannot stop death when it is inevitable."

Banner nodded and said he would locate someone on the base who once worked for Tony. Happy was nearby, watching Morgan and keeping a close eye on Pepper as well. He would have access to the Stark home and could retrieve suitable garments. Strange did not know what Pepper would want done with Tony's body this time. Previously, cremation was the only option due to the gamma radiation contamination. This time, a casket was an option as the body would not be a biohazard, but Banner pushed those thoughts out of his head.

"I have to check on Pepper," he replied with notes of regret and sadness tinging his voice. "After I do that, I'll send someone to… get Tony's things. Are you going back the way you came?"

"No," Strange answered on the king's behalf before he and his affronted cloak left the room so they could not be asked to violate his own personal code again for mere convenience of others.

As he left the lab, a hush fell over the room like a scolding. T'Challa shook his head but made no comment on the departure.

"Your Director summoned me," he said eventually. "He will surely be kind enough to offer me transport home. I will leave as soon as I have the necessary items."

Banner nodded. In a Quinjet at supersonic speed, the 6,000 mile flight to Wakanda would take roughly five hours. Whether the travel time would be enough for the Wakandan team to successfully treat Tony (or if the country's ruler would arrive after the man's passing) was not a discussion Banner wanted to have. He merely nodded and said he would bring T'Challa to the Director to have his conversation.

"Thank you," the king said as he bowed his head gratefully. "I am sorry I cannot offer you greater hope, but I promise my people will do everything possible and treat him with dignity."

**oOoOo**


	40. Chapter 40

**oOoOo**

Pepper rested uncomfortably in the concrete box of a room just down from the lab. The bed was no more comfortable than the one where she slept the previous night, and the knot in her back was making itself known. Morgan was moping and growing restless. She wanted to go home and kept asking if they could call her father to come get her because she was certain he wouldn't mind. She was under the impression he was in the garage building her something with Harley. Pepper did not dissuade her from that notion. It kept the little girl from asking too many questions.

Happy was doing his best to keep her interested in a puzzle someone rounded up, but he was keeping a close eye on his watch now that he had been briefed about what was occurring and Tony's predicament. He also kept cutting worried eyes at Pepper every time she winced or stifled a groan of pain as her body continued to react to the treatment Banner had given her child.

Something was happening, that much Pepper knew. She felt warm, like the early onset of a fever, and her muscles were cramping at odd intervals. She hoped she had done the right thing taking the serum. Oddly, she found Loki's harsh assessment the only thing that gave any semblance of peace of mind: At least she'd done something. All indications were that the baby was not viable out of the womb due to his own cellular degradation issues. She just hoped beyond measure that the treatment did work, and that Tony would forgive her for making the choice to go through with it when he had apparently be so adamantly opposed to it being used on himself.

"It's quiet out there again," Happy noted with a halfhearted shrug. "That's probably… good news."

Both he and Pepper had head the echo of commotion a few minutes earlier, but neither found the courage to wonder aloud what it might be. However, despite his attempt at reassuring words, the silence was equally disconcerting. Happy saw Pepper staring anxiously at the door and decided he would poke his head out.

"How about I go get everyone some water?" he announced. "I'll be back in a second. That okay with you?"

As he spoke, he ruffled Morgan's hair and received a wan smile. The little girl had begun rubbing her eyes and huffing at lot as responses to questions. Happy recognized that as fatigue and knew a tantrum was likely one bad question or answer down the road if something didn't change.

"Thank you," Pepper said to him and jerked her head to the door in a silent order to do what he planned to do.

He left the room quietly and was greeted almost instantly by two men with serious faces (one old and lined, the other large and green). They walked purposefully down the hallway toward him as he closed the door tightly.

"This doesn't look good," the former bodyguard remarked. "You got news?"

He asked the question as though he already knew the answer. Cap and Banner exchanged a glance that was sufficient to confirm the man's fears.

"God no," Happy crumpled then asked hollowly: "When?"

"No, it's not that," Cap corrected him. "The team found Tony. He's still alive."

Before Happy could take a breath of relief, Banner cut in and burst that bubble of hope.

"You mean, he was when they took him out of here," Banner corrected, drawing the old man's stern stare. "Steve, that's all we know for certain. I don't like it either, but I saw Tony when they brought him in; you didn't. Look, even if he hadn't been shot, we knew he was going to be in rough shape because of the other damage. We already were racing against a clock to save him. Hope is a good thing, but offering falsely high hopes is cruel. I honestly can't tell you with any accuracy how Tony is other than when they took him out of here, he was in critical condition. "

Happy nodded taking the information stoically, but one detail jabbed at him and necessitated clarification.

"Did you say he got shot?" he asked.

"Yeah, the guy who kidnapped him apparently shot him as the team was extracting him," Banner reported. "It's a chest wound."

"Shot in the chest?" Happy repeated incredulously as he rolled his bullish shoulders and began to scowl. "As in shot, like with a gun and a bullet? Or are we talking like some mind-melting, fleshing dissolving death ray?"

Cap explained the final moments he heard broadcast over the open channel where Barton described the assailant firing an ordinary handgun at them and finding his target.

"So you're telling me this kidnapper," Happy fumed with a barely restrained tone of rage, "was smart enough to outfox all of you, then shot Tony with an ordinary bullet when he was surrounded by a bunch of superheroes?"

His voice shook with indignation and frustration compounded by worry and the first stages of grief. As condemnations go, it stung both men. Although neither Banner nor Cap were on the mission, they felt equal measures of guilt. That was the trouble of being a part of a team that had relied so heavily upon each other for years. Their successes were shared as well as their failures, and the losses seemed to cut extra deep.

"Tony dying in a battle, like we all thought he did last year, was the way I'd feared he'd go out," Happy seethed. "You know, I never liked him being around you guys. Keeping him safe was my job—and I was good at it. He wasn't supposed to be one of the super friends. He's brainy guy who creates things. But all this? Secret bases and guys from outer space wiping out the world? He shouldn't have been a part of it. These last few months, being with his family, that's what Tony's supposed to do. Now some punk with a pistol might have killed him. That's cheap. So, hey, great job on keeping him safe. You're the damn Hulk. Bullets probably bounce off of you. Where were you?"

Banner sighed and opened his mouth to either object or offer understanding but didn't as Cap raised his hand. The small motion was one that called for silence on his part to let the man have his say as he obviously needed to do it.

"Maybe dying in the line of duty is what guys like you do," Happy continued, his voice raw with worry. "But Tony's not like you. He's got no super speed or strength. He's freaky smart, that's his thing. It's great for creating machines, but he's no soldier. He's just man—one some of us love, faults and all. I worried every time he was out with your little club because I didn't think anyone had his back the way he needed it. He'd tell me I was wrong, to trust him, because he trusted you. Well, it took 25 years, but I was finally right when Tony was wrong, and I wish to God that I wasn't."

He finished venting. His eyes were red. His face was pulsing, but he'd kept his voice down. He looked back at the door to Pepper's room and sighed regretfully.

"Where is the kid?" Happy asked.

"You mean Parker?" Banner shrugged. "I don't know. Only Rhodes went with Tony. The spider kid might be at the site with the rest of the team."

"No," Cap offered. "Hill reported that Peter was outside with Thor. He's unharmed, but he's… He was with Tony when he was shot so he's understandably upset."

"Upset?" Happy repeated and scoffed as tears welled in his eyes. "The guy he worships gets shot and was dying in front of him—again. Yeah, I'll bet he was upset."

With his anger spent, Happy too began feeling the loss that was on the horizon. He knew he should ask precisely where Tony was and make his way there, but they did say Rhodes was with him. That was something. Plus, there was a woman in the room behind him who would need Happy's support and help soon.

_Damn you, Tony_, Happy silently seethed in his grief and anger.

Being angry at Tony wasn't easy for him. He liked the guy too much, owed the guy everything, and loved him like family—but Happy thought someone as smart as Tony should have seen this coming. The second he had any contact with the Avengers after coming home was simply asking for trouble. Previously, losing Tony had been the hardest thing Happy had ever faced in his life. Tony was his family. Losing him a second time wasn't going to be any easier. All Happy could do was help those around him who were going to hurt as much as he did (and more). Doing that was all that got him through the last time. He hoped it would be enough this time.

"Are you here to tell Pepper what happened?" he asked curtly.

Banner looked to Cap who sighed then reached an inner conclusion that he did not like but felt was for the best at that moment.

"Not yet," he shook his head. "We don't have any information to give her that she absolutely needs. There's nothing she can do right now. If we get word that… If there's anything definite to tell her, we will do that."

"You tell me, then I will tell her," Happy ordered, sounding every bit the former boxer and bodyguard that he was. "You're friends. I'm family. She says she's okay right now waiting to hear news, but I can see she's not. She's anxious, and she's not feeling well from those false labor pains. Morgan's is about to have a meltdown if I don't get her to take a nap. You guys got any place here that doesn't look like a prison cell for that?"

Banner said there was an office with a couch a few doors down. He would see to it that Happy could bring Morgan there to rest. While he did that, Cap suggested that Happy check on Peter to see if he could help entertain the child in the meantime. That would serve two purposes. It would keep Morgan occupied and take Peter's own mind off his woes. No doubt the teen was in anguish, but Cap thought he was likely to find his game face again if the little girl was present. The two had formed an odd friendship that might prove helpful for one and healing for the other that afternoon. Happy nodded stiffly and went in search of Peter, leaving the others outside Pepper's room.

"So we just stand around and wait?" Banner asked.

"There's nothing more we can do right now," Cap replied. "When will you know if the procedure you did had any effect on the baby?"

"Hard to say," Banner replied. "If it was going to work, the changes would start immediately, but it will take a while before we could detect any differences. We did a few tests prior to administering the serum. We'll run some more in a few hours and compare the results. This is all theoretical still. I know what I think should happen, but whether it will…"

Cap sighed as he looked at the closed door. Behind it was a woman facing the possibility of two extremely devastating outcomes in the coming hours. It seemed likely her husband would not survive, and there was a very real possibility that her unborn son would swiftly follow his father to the grave. Cap had been fortunate on his last go around. He'd had a wonderful life with Peggy. They'd raise a family, and the worst thing he ever faced was a five year gap when one of his children and one of his grandchildren disappeared after Thanos's snap. Cap had weathered that better than anyone else in the world for he knew they would return and all would be well eventually. Pepper had no such guarantees. She had faced losing Tony several times before and had been with him the last time when it appeared final. Now, he was thousands of miles away and more than likely not going to pull off one last miracle.

"Did I hear you correctly?" Cap asked eventually. "Rhodes went with him?"

"Yeah," Banner nodded. "He didn't want Tony to be alone when… you know. I said I would get some of Tony's things, his clothes, together for T'Challa to bring back when he flies home. He said that he'll arrange to have Tony… To have his b-… He'll take care of getting Tony home when the time comes."

Cap placed a firm, comforting hand on the big guy's arm and nodded. It struck him as fitting that for as hard as dealing with Tony in life had been, he was even more difficult in death. He reasoned that was because Tony was someone who seemed to radiate life and energy. Removing that force was a drain on everything it previously touched.

"Why don't you check on Pepper instead?" Cap suggested. "There's nothing I can do here, but I can go to their house and get things together. Mr. Keener has access to the home. I'll take him with me. Someone should be with him as well. Your focus should be on the tests for Pepper and the baby. Keep your mind on your work and hope for good news."

**oOoOo**

A long hallway. Strange lights. Odd echoes followed by cold silence.

It all rushed together overloading Rhodes's senses as he stood outside the room where the best medical minds in Wakanda gathered around the body on the table. There were intimidating looking machines and many flashing lights. Robotic arms moved in unison with the doctors. The scene, both harmonious and chaotic at the same time, reminded him of the way Tony used get into his first suits of armor, only rather than encasing him in protection these machines were cutting into him, sending lasers into him, and injecting him with unknown substances. Rhodes felt helpless as he planted himself firmly in front of the wide observation window and watched as his friend grew paler and paler as each minute ticked by. He was so focused on watching the action in the room that he did not hear the voice directed at him until she touched his arm.

"You are Colonel Rhodes?" Shuri confirmed. "You are here as his family?"

Rhodes nodded hoping she would not ask him for medical permission to do anything dire. He considered himself Tony's family, but under US law only Pepper was actually empowered to make those kinds of decisions for Tony when he was incapable of doing it himself. Rhodes swiftly determined that no matter what the woman asked, he was going to request that all possible measures be used on the patient. However as she spoke, he realized his assumption was premature.

"There is massive tissue damage from cellular degeneration of a cause unknown," she explained. "We believe can repair much of it using our rapid synthesis protocols; however, for the greatest chance of success we would normally transfuse him with our synthetic plasma before placing him in the regeneration pod."

"Normally?" he questioned. "Why not now? You don't have any on hand? You said it's synthetic. Make more."

"No, that is not the issue," she shook her head. "We have sufficient amounts, but the rapid testing we conducted determined his cellular integrity is too compromised to compensate for the changes a synthetic plasma triggers. When we encounter this type of obstacle, we can modify our formula very quick to generate the ideal plasma replacement. To do that, in any other case, we would simply use his own blood for the replication. However, doing that will merely replicate the existing problem rather than solve it. Also, for reasons we cannot discern, he has a measurable amount of the element Dysprosium in his blood. While normally it is an inert metal as far as the human body is concerned, it will nullify the ability of our technology to synthesize a plasma sample from his blood."

Rhodes groaned. The mission they undertook to save Tony was going to turn out to be the stumbling block to saving his life. He scraped his hands down his face as she continued to deliver the news.

"All is not lost," she assured him. "We need only find an uncompromised sample of his blood type."

"We don't have one," Rhodes said then offered as the only helpful suggestion he could give in the situation. "Can't you use other blood of the same type? He's O-negative."

"Yes, we confirmed that as it is our plan," Shuri nodded. "However, it is not a common blood type here. Forty-seven percent of our population is AB-positive. Those with type O are exceedingly rare in Wakanda; those with that type and a negative RH-factor are even rarer."

"Great," he huffed. "You're telling me you need a unicorn."

"Not precisely," she said. "We have registry that has identified 15 people with that blood type. We will contact them to see if any are willing and able to donate. Unfortunately, while we are technologically advanced here in the city, some of the individuals live outside. It will take some time to reach them, and time isn't not an ally of ours today."

Rhodes scolded himself as the solution burst through his worry and weariness. He shook his head and thrust his arm forward as Tony's words to him on the roof came back to him.

"We're the same type," he said. "Get a needle. Stick me."

**oOoOo**

Darkness surrounded Tony and a pervasive cold sensation rippled across his skin. It disturbed him to realize he was standing. He looked around and saw nothing but blackness at first.

"Hello?" he called out. "Rhodey? You here?"

He had the sense that his friend was nearby, or he had been recently. Tony didn't precisely recall seeing him, but there was an inkling under his skin that Rhodes was not far away. He turned slowly, oddly not fearing he would encounter any obstacle in the inky atmosphere surrounding him.

He took a tentative step forward as a tiny speck of light appeared, like a pinhole in box. He took another step then another as the light grew larger. It began to filter into the rest of the space around him creating a sphere of brightness. He looked over his shoulder to what he had left behind and saw an odd sight: His body lay on a table with little of metal filaments jabbed into various spots on the ghastly white skin of his arms, neck and torso. There was also a round spot on his chest that wept bright, red blood every few seconds.

"That does not look good," he muttered to himself.

"Really?" a familiar (if unexpected) voice asked, prompting Tony to turn away from the sight in front of him.

As he did, his eyes grew wide and his chin dropped. He was certain that what he saw (who he saw!) would have stopped his heart if that didn't appear to already be happening: Natasha Romanoff stood before him.

"I thought you were one of those who always admired how you looked?" she continued.

She wore her patented '_I know something you don't_' smirk. Her face was serenely unlined—none of the years of stress and guilt showed on her porcelain complexion. Her hair was short with wide streaks of white blond interspersed with vibrant red. She cocked her hip to the side as she folded her arms.

"Romanoff?" Tony spoke in a surprised, strangled voice as he blinked.

"You're staring," she noted with an impish grin. "Miss me?"

"I thought that was my line," he remarked. "How are you here?"

"Better question," she answered. "What are you doing? Looks like laying down on the job."

Tony glanced back at his unmoving body on the table and found he didn't want to look at it longer. He turned and stepped toward her.

"You're dead," he said then scrunched his brow as the overwhelming sensation of déjà vu struck him. "Wait. Have we done this before?"

"Points to the genius for remembering—no one was sure if you would," she replied. "I have to say, this is one job I didn't think would get a repeat performance, but you (being excessively high-maintenance even in death) just had to be special."

"What do you mean?"

"You died last fall," Natasha told him. "I volunteered to keep you company on your journey. I did it, ushered you right to the edge like required. Mission accomplished. Or so I thought. I just found out you escaped somehow and were back again. You're really a pain in the ass in every plane of existence, you know that?"

"I don't understand," Tony shook his head. "I've only died once—right now in this room. Another me apparently died a while ago—maybe you missed a memo. Do you read memos? I don't. That was always Pepper's job. Anyway, me specifically and the dying stuff: all new."

As they spoke, he distantly heard a mechanical tone that sounded incessant, unyielding, and ominous. He glanced again at his body, registering it was even further away that before, and noted Rhodes was with him. The man was in the same room with his arm hooked up to something that looked like a mini super collider hooked to a stasis pod.

"Not exactly," she shook her head, "but that body right there just died—condolences. Your soul, however, different story. It's been released from a corporeal form a couple times now. Here, in this realm where we all go after the initial separation happens, things come together. Missing pieces get found. Broken stuff mends. So, don't be surprised if the other time comes back to you."

"That why you're here?" Tony asked. "Fixing something broken?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "Just spending time with an old friend while he decides where he goes next."

Tony looked around. The room behind him was growing darker, and nothing in it seemed to move much. He felt coldness in his chest that was surprising but not worrisome. The burning pain that had resided there since he felt himself falling from that roof had vanished.

"I get a choice?" he asked.

"You pretty much get whatever you want, don't you?" Natasha chided with a smirk.

"That doesn't sound friendly," he muttered. "What are you doing here?"

"I just told you," she looped her arm through his and began walking him toward the softer, brighter light in front of them.

There were no walls and no floor to speak of; there was simply a glowing, fuzzy mist that enticed them forward. Tony looked briefly over his shoulder and saw the room with the operating table appeared even further away. Her hold on his arm was firm. Her determination that they keep walking away was apparent.

"So I was here before and was supposed to stay dead but didn't," Tony guessed. "Then I got brought forward in time to a point when I was already dead so the universal constants finally fell into line so that I ended up dead like I'm supposed to be? Is that it? It just took a while to line up the means to make it happen? I gotta say, that's a little weak and predictable as plotlines go. Points, however, to whatever runs this place for sending a stone-cold assassin, who happens to be dead, to kick my ass if I tried to run back and do a second resurrection. You met who or whatever is in charge here?"

"Nope, not my mission," she shrugged innocently.

"You're not the least bit interested in what here actually is and who created it or runs it?" he asked.

"Not in the least," Natasha replied. "You want to know? Figure it out yourself. You're the scientist."

"I'm an engineer," he corrected her. "I create things; I build things; I fix things… sometimes."

"Did you fix this?" she asked then canted her head back toward the fading room where his body remained.

Tony stopped walking and sighed.

_What had he done?_

He'd given Harley a breather so he didn't put his academic career in the toilet. He'd given Peter the chance to know he meant a lot to Tony and that nothing the teen could have done on the battlefield would have saved him. He'd alleviated Rhodey of that same guilt. Cap got the chance to call a truce (or remind Tony they already had one) and '_atta boy_' him in his grandpa way. Bruce got to prove he was still a brilliant scientist in his large, green form. Happy got to see his friend again and ensure there was nothing left unsaid. Morgan got a few more months of piano lessons and bedtime stories. Pepper got…

"Our son's going to die, isn't he?" Tony asked suddenly. "He wasn't supposed to exist because I wasn't supposed to be around for him to be conceived. He's not going to make it, is he?"

Natasha's expression remained maddeningly neutral.

"Not briefed on any of that," she replied. "I was only assigned you. Again."

There was no sympathy but also no triumph in her words or expression. Tony sighed as a memory surfaced in his mind of the team sitting by the lake with a heavy feeling on his chest that had nothing to do with old injuries or a power core.

"We were sad, all of us, when you died," he told her. "Barton, obviously, took it the hardest, but Bruce… He threw a bench. For whatever that's worth, it went clear across the lake. We kept going to defeat Thanos because of you—to make what you did mean something. You weren't physically there, but we couldn't have defeated him without you."

The memory of that felt distant, like he hadn't lived it but read it in a book or watched it in a movie a long time ago. He was certain it was real but just as certain that in a matter of moments, the memory would fade.

"I didn't need a big send off," she said. "Not my style. Clint's kids will remember me; they put up a marker for me at the farm. That was more than I ever asked to get. I watched your initial send off. The spontaneous one on the battlefield. A king, soldiers, and a god all fell to their knees in tribute. They were shocked to lose you, but I was glad to see you."

She started walked forward again. Tony's thoughts grew fuzzier.

"Lonely?" he grinned.

"Just glad to have a purpose," Natasha replied. "Time is different here. A second, a day, and a millennium are all the same."

"So you're the hall monitor?" he asked. "This is what you do from now on? You act as a door greeter: Welcome to You're Dead World."

She shook her head and explained she wasn't sure how it worked precisely. She just knew when she was needed elsewhere and went to the place. What she was needed to do became obvious as she arrived. It was, she explained, similar to taking a mission with SHIELD: Her objectives were always clear even if the motivation behind them remained a mystery. She insisted it was a good gig and felt familiar without the worry because there was a certainty of success.

"Until me," Tony noted.

"Well, you were kind of always an exception to a lot of rules," Natasha remarked. "I actually don't mind taking the walk with you again."

"It's not that I mind seeing you, but since seeing dead people is apparently part of what goes on here," he began as he craned his neck and looked around, "any chance I can I see anyone else, or is it just you?"

"Not my call," she replied. "Mother or father?"

He shrugged, not finding fault or error with her assessment. He admitted to wanting to see both of his parents and Edwin Jarvis as well. However, her response was not encouraging. She merely nodded and kept him walking forward into the bright yet inviting mist.

"Who you see kind of depends on how far we get this time, I think," Natasha replied.

**oOoOo**

Banner stared at the screen before him and pinched the bridge of his nose. Mixed results were better than none, he told himself. He hadn't expected resounding changes in the isotope stability in the amniotic fluid, but he did expect to find slightly higher levels than he was finding. But, he was seeing some shift. That, he decided, was the right direction.

There were two possibilities for the lower results. The first was the more obvious: time. The baby simply had not had sufficient time for his body to fully incorporate the altered RNA coding through the serum. If that was the case, the levels would grow and increase the longer the child's RNA strands reprogrammed the faulty DNA coding.

The next possibility, one he had considered but not given a great deal of thought beyond acknowledging it, was that the tether between mother and child was hindering the process. There was no way to determine if that was happening. There was no means to measure the amount of resistance Pepper's own body might be having on stymieing her child's cure.

The most unfortunate part was that to confirm either suspicion meant taking a dangerous action that would necessarily negate the other and possibly cut off the chance of the serum eventually proving successful. If they left Pepper alone and just hoped that additional time was what was needed to make the treatment successful, they risked her body undoing any positive effects of the serum. If they induced labor, it was even more problematic. It might kick start the serum to full strength so that the child's isotopic issue was neutralized, but the baby would be premature. He was going to need all the strength and as much development as possible to withstand any unfixed cellular failure issues his body had. Both choices were safe for Pepper herself, but neither were tempting for the sake of the child, yet a decision was needed.

For Banner, there was only one reasonable option: Do nothing. The child was six weeks from his due date. The longer his altered RNA worked on his DNA, the better chance he stood. They would just need to hope that Pepper's own body couldn't keep up with the changes enough to combat them. Do nothing was the scientifically the best route to take. He had just made that decision when Nebula entered the lab. Her face, as emotionless as ever, thrust toward him.

"Banner," she said in her flat, breathy voice, "come with me."

"Where?" he asked, moving toward her nonetheless. "Why?"

"Pepper requires your assistance," Nebula said then walked quickly from the lab.

Banner followed. He crossed the room then went down the hall just steps behind her until he reached her room. The door was open. Nebula took a place on the opposite side of the bed. Loki, oddly, was on the side nearest the door and offered Banner a grateful and beseeching look as he arrived.

"Thank the grace of Odin you are here," the Asgardian sighed with relief through a grimace.

"What's going on?" Banner asked then looked at the woman in the bed.

Pepper's skin was red from chin to hairline. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her forehead. Her face was scrunched and twisted in pain as she gripped Loki's arm tightly enough to turn her knuckles white.

"He did this to her," Nebula offered with an accusing look as she grasped Pepper's other hand.

"What did you do?" Banner asked sternly.

Loki scoffed and tossed a dagger look at the blue skinned woman across from him before sneering at the questions.

"What I often do," he replied. "I told the truth. She asked me if I knew any news of her husband. I told her only what my brother told me: That when last seen, the annoying creature she chose for procreation was on a stretcher ebbing life. I honestly didn't see the value in lying to her. She's not unintelligent despite her choice in mate. She had already assumed there were complications with his return."

Banner seethed as his mighty jaw clenched and his large teeth grated against one another. The menacing glare he offered raised a nod from Nebula and found Loki leaning backward; however, the God of Mischief was unable to move further as Pepper's grip was too tight.

"Pepper, Tony was hurt, but he's with specialists and they're the best," Banner said, turning his attention to her. "Now, tell me what's going on with you?"

"I'm certainly not an expert, but she seems to be having a baby," Loki said flatly before she could respond. "Also, as a casual observer, this does not appear to be false labor."

"How would you know?" Banner scrunched his brow.

"She's hurting me," Loki snarled.

"Squeeze harder if it helps," Nebula encouraged Pepper.

"Okay," Banner nodded. "Just hang in there, Pepper. Everything's going to be fine. I'll be right back."

He stepped into the hallway and shouted for assistance. It took several long seconds, but someone did appear. Unfortunately, it was not anyone with a medical background. Agent Coulson, however, was prepared to be helpful. Banner sent him to find out if Strange was still on the base and if so to bring him to the room.

"We need to get Pepper to a hospital," Banner reported. "If she is in labor, they may be able to stop it."

"You've given her an experimental treatment," Coulson reminded him. "Is it wise to administer more drugs to her without knowing what reactions it might have?"

"Wise?" Banner shrugged. "I don't know. Necessary? Probably. They'll likely just give her steroids."

"What's the worst steroids would do?" he asked and received a furrowed brow reaction. "I'm doing a threat assessment, Doctor. It's my job. What is the worst case scenario if she is given steroids?"

"Depends on what you mean by worse," Banner replied. "They might counteract the serum and nullify its progress, or they might overwhelm the baby's organs and kill him. I'd consider both of those very bad. But if you're asking whether they'll turn the baby into something more out of control than I ever was or something out of a scifi movie, you can stop worrying. Dead child is the worst outcome. No one else is in danger but him."

Coulson nodded, accepting the answer and satisfied with it. He noted Wanda had been summoned to the control room by Fury so he asked that Banner ensure Nebula remain nearby and accessible at a moment's notice.

"Why?" Banner asked. "She's trying to comfort Pepper right now. It might be good if she went with her to the hospital."

"I'm sure that's helpful on an emotional level, but my primary concern is the security of this facility and the planet," Coulson said. "From that standpoint, I would prefer Nebula has her hands free at all times. I'm willing to bet she can dismember Loki if there is a need."

"Okay," Banner said slowly. "That's a little disturbing but understood."

The agent nodded then walked quickly down the hall in search of Strange while calling back a promise to also make arrangements for a helicopter to airlift the patient if necessary.

Inside the room, the atmosphere remained tense. Loki had retrieved his hand and was shaking the feeling back into it as Pepper slumped in the bed breathing in a more relaxed way as the pain had subsided. Nebula remained close to her side, yet oddly so did the Asgardian.

"Your physical pain may yet help you face your heartbreak," he offered not unkindly.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Pepper asked.

"You mean more than myself?" he curled his lip. "I am not burdened with such feelings; although, I do question from time-to-time if that is a detriment or a gift."

"So you have children no, no wife?" Pepper asked.

"Me?" Loki lifted his eyebrows. "No, I am alone in the universe—something we all are but so few recognize. My understanding of that is more complete and advanced than most others. I am a Frost Giant by birth, the rightful King of Jotunheim. My ancestors are the sworn enemy of those who raised me, the Asgard. This is thus the reason my brother and I occasionally squabble and try to kill one another. Let that be a lesson to you regarding your children: War between them now and then (and even an occasional attempt at murder) never fully shakes the bonds of siblings, yet without those moments you can never be sure they have any concern for one another at all."

Pepper stared at him in surprise tinged with the near certainty the man was insane. Tony once described Loki as not entirely nuts but situationally homicidal. Hearing the God of Mischief speak, it was evident to Pepper there was little sarcasm in her husband's assessment.

"My words appall you," he observed. "They shouldn't. They come from my heart, which is not quite the lake of ice and poison you no doubt believe. I genuinely like children, particularly from a distance. They're naturally mischievous and wonderfully impressionable."

Loki watched her blink and read only the surprise in her features.

"Or is it not the words, but the impressive specimen that delivers them which astounds you?" he grinned. "It's a stunning visage, I'll grant you, yet I must confess: What you see before you is but a façade achieved through impressive spellwork. It is the form chosen in my infancy by my adoptive father, Odin, so that I might fit into his world."

Nebula cocked her head to the side mechanically and blinked.

"I, too, am adopted," she said.

"Really?" Loki dismissed her dryly. "That makes us practically twins."

"I killed an earlier version of myself so that these people would survive," she continued. "If you do anything to jeopardize this world or anyone in it, I will not hesitate to do the same to you."

"I feel like we're making progress and forging a true connection finally," Loki nodded over Pepper's renewed groan as she gripped his hand again in pain. "Might you assist me? This woman may have just broken a bone in my hand. I would hate to be in less than fighting form should we face off with knives or something similar later."

"Your pain does not concern me," Nebula replied.

"I like you more and more all the time," Loki grinned.

**oOoOo**

The cold sensation from Tony's chest grew deeper and stronger to the point that he stopped walking. He slipped his arm free of his companion and glared at her.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"Onward," Natasha said and gestured vaguely toward the soft yet bright light that was so close he was certain he could now touch it if he tried.

"Why?" he asked. "What's over there?"

"Can't spoil the surprise," she replied. "I can promise you it's safe. You'll be okay there, Tony. I wouldn't let you go if I wasn't sure."

He took another step back as the distant echo of a voice caught his attention. A flat tone accompanied the voice. He looked over his shoulder. The room where his body lay was much further away than seemed possible. The darkness around it was nearly complete. Someone was standing close to the table where his body lay. Tony's mind registered that it was Rhodes, but he did not have time to contemplate why as he heard his name spoken by someone long gone from the world.

"It is good to see you, Stark."

Tony spun around to see Professor Ho Yinsen, his former fellow hostage, standing beside Natasha. The man grinned in a warm and inviting way.

"You are a man of many second chances, it seems," Yinsen offered.

Tony found his words fled from him. Seeing Natasha was one thing—she was a spy and some part of him had found it difficult to believe she had in fact died. Until that moment, part of him clung to the possibility that she was alive and somehow during his kidnapping she reappeared and sprung him. Seeing the man who helped him escape the last time was abducted and who sacrificed himself so that Tony might live ended that theory.

"Why are you here?" Tony asked.

"To see you," Yinsen answered. "I have a question for you, Stark: Did it mean something?"

Tony blinked. His initial urge was to ask for clarification, but the man's last words to him in the cave about making his life mean something echoed in his mind. It was Yinsen's final wish, his dying statement, that propelled Tony to perfect his armor and continue with the work they began during captivity. He stared at the man then hung his head.

"I don't know," Tony said. "I know that I tried, but I don't know that I ever got it all right. We saved the planet—the Avengers did. We saved the universe, I guess. Apparently, I took the last shot that killed a maniac who wanted to destroy everything. Was that enough?"

Yinsen did not reply. He merely smiled and inclined his head. He turned slightly toward the inviting light.

"Only you have that answer," he said. "You also have another choice to make."

"Don't do the bit about whether I think I'm worthy," Tony said. "I have two answers to that question, and they're diametrically opposed so they cancel each other out. I'd ask for a phone-a-friend chance here, but I'm betting I only get you and Romanoff for that. No offense, but I'm getting the vibe neither of you can (or will) help me."

"You do not need our help," Yinsen said. "Only you have the answer."

"What if my answer is that I need to see a few other people before I make my choice?" Tony wondered.

The other man sighed and shook his head knowingly. A pitying smile graced his lips.

"Your father is not in this place," Yinsen told him. "He will not see you unless you are staying. The same with your mother and your caretaker, Mr. Jarvis."

"What about Mr. Rossetti?" Tony ventured. "He was the gardener and taught me the useful parts of the Italian language. He was always good for some advice when no one else was around. No?"

He was greeted with simply the same unyielding and unhelpful smile. Tony shrugged and bowed his head. The choice was as impossible as it was excruciating: See those he missed most of all or return to his life to those he loved beyond measure. There was unknown ahead of him and possibly a world of sorrow and pain behind him. The baby would die; Pepper would be (at the very least) devastated and heartbroken (and it would be his fault). Worst case scenario, Pepper could die with their child, leaving Morgan to be raised by a father who, although doting, was no one's idea of a great role model for a young, impressionable girl.

If there was a right answer, Tony thought it should be obvious to him—more so because he had evidently been posed this question previously according to Natasha. He had no recollection of being in this odd, in-between place before despite her assurance it had happened. Somehow, the last time he had broken the rules and escaped.

_What if that's the answer_, he wondered.

"Going back was selfish," Tony surmised. "I did it for me, didn't I? It's like building another suit of armor. I cocooned myself against whatever scared me here so I bolted and got back to my life, only I did it wrong and it basically killed me. I'm my own worst enemy. I tried to protect myself against alien invasions and nearly lost Pepper and later nearly ended the world. Something threatens my idea of a safe little world that I can control and I make it worse by trying to stop it."

"Is that what happens?" Yinsen asked neutral way. "Does something scare you now?"

"Yeah, that light up ahead and whatever lays beyond it terrifies me," Tony admitted but lifted his eyes along with his chin to stare directly into the brightness. "But by now I should know that being scared isn't a good enough excuse to run away and hide, right?"

"I cannot give you any answers, Stark," Yinsen shook his head. "Only you know your path."

"Screw the path," Tony huffed. "If there's only one path, then it precludes the possibility of free will. If free will is all a sham, I've got no real choice so whatever I choose—no matter what—that's what was supposed to happen. That means it's not really my choice at all. See, this is why I preferred engineering to philosophy. There are answers in the equations and options even after the mistakes. What happens if I don't choose a path? What if I stay right here?"

Natasha was at Tony's elbow again, giving him a gentle nudge forward. Tony looked at her.

"Since when do you sit still?" she asked. "You might make essentially the same mistakes in different way sometimes, but you don't tread water. I've never known you to actually go back and repeat the same precise actions without making changes. Not your style. You learn something each time then you alter and correct. Sitting down and doing nothing isn't in you, Tony."

He scoffed. He made of mess of things just as often as he fixed them, he contended. In a lab and in his shop, he could work wonders. But this wasn't about an invention. This was about life and the lives that he touched (and those he changed forever—some not for the better).

"I made of mess of everything going back the last time, didn't I?" he noted, looking to Natasha for the straight answer. "I thought I belonged there, but going back didn't make it better. I tried, but I failed."

"You think life can be perfected?" she scoffed.

"I find peace in the mechanics if I fabricate the parts just right," Tony asserted.

"You actually believe that you found peace in your life?" Natasha wondered as the light grew brighter and appeared to stretch toward them. "The last time you were here, you were still pondering that point. You'd just taken care of Thanos and said some hard goodbyes. That time, you said death seemed like your only chance for peace."

"No," he shook his head. "That's what Pepper said to me, or it's what she meant. She wanted me to…"

"Leave her alone?" Natasha asked. "Remove your chaos from her world?"

"No," Tony shook his head. "She just… She wanted me to feel like I could go and not worry about her or Morgan."

"Your wife knew you didn't have a choice," Yinsen offered.

"Pepper didn't want you to linger and suffer longer," Natasha added.

Tony nodded. He hadn't suffered this time, not much anyway. He'd been freaked when he saw Peter in the line of fire. He also didn't like hearing the panic and pain in the kid's voice as they left the jet. Tony felt an obligation to the kid, to keep Peter from feeling anxious or upset—particularly on his own account. He felt for Rhodes, too. The looks on Peter's and Rhodes's faces when Tony last saw them were nothing short of devastated. Tony didn't think letting his best friend or his greatest fan watch and hear his last breaths rush from his chest would be good for either of them. Others would grieve for him as well. Morgan would unfortunately wait for him again each day and live (at least for a while) with the false hope that he would return. Pepper would bid him farewell once more and most likely lay their son to rest not long afterward. He ached, not for himself and what he would lose, but for their pain—the pain he caused them.

"You have made an amazing journey, Stark," Yinsen encouraged. "Where it goes and when it is through is for you to decide. Your mind and your heart already have that answer."

Tony looked at the man lost for what that answer must be. He turned his eyes to Natasha, who merely shrugged unhelpfully.

"You're the one who said part of the journey is the end," she said, quoting Tony's original farewell message.

"My son never really got a journey because of me," Tony sighed regretfully. "I get that endings are necessary. That's just logical. I've been aware most of my life that not all endings are easy, but this… You invest yourself in people, and they become a part of you even if you can't speak to each other. Just the thought of them can be a comfort, but then they're gone—taken from you—and you can't do anything about it. You're telling me we have choices and there are right answers, well, I'm calling bullshit on that. I just don't see the point to what's happened other than it causing pain. And don't feed me the 'good memories line'. It doesn't fly with me because grief crushes those. Gone is gone, and permanent absence just hurts. I went through it at 17. You don't get over it. You just…"

"Keep going," Yinsen nodded and finished his sentence as he gestured forward.

"Is that the answer?" Tony asked in a strangled whisper.

Natasha looked at him with a maddeningly neutral face as she shrugged again.

"Maybe your realization about journeys wasn't complete," she said. "Part of the journey is the end, but a lot of it's also the uncertainty."

The word itched in Tony's ears. _U__ncertainty_. The circuits in his brain began firing rapidly.

_Heisenberg's Principal_, his mind immediately percolated and his lips unconsciously repeated.

"Are we talking about Germans now?" Natasha asked with a sly grin.

"In a way," Yinsen answered with a slow nod. "Heisenberg's Principal is the proposition that the position and the velocity of an object—an electron for example—cannot both be measured exactly at the same time, even in theory, In order to know either the position, to measure it, you must first alter the other and vice versa."

His explanation merely earned him her furrowed brow. Tony sighed.

"It's the mathematical certainty that fundamentally limits the precision with which all physical properties of any particle can be known while maintaining their approximate meaning," he offered just as a fluttering sensation prickled in his chest. Natasha further raised her eyebrows in doubt, seemingly no better informed. "Relevant translation for those who didn't speak quantum mechanics: There are no absolute answers to everything, and no one has the ability to know everything with certainty."

"Still not helpful," she shook her head.

"No one has all the answers," Tony exhaled as the feeling in his chest grew uncomfortable to the point of pain. He reached for her shoulder to steady himself.

"Tony?" she asked urgently. "What's wrong?"

"You don't even know that," he replied through clenched teeth as he offered a chuckled sifted through a wince. "It's what I needed to know. There are no answers here."

His knees buckled, and he heard Natasha yelp his name. He felt her hand on his face. He gazed into her wide, surprised eyes as his thought—both bewildering and reassuring—continued to unravel despite the fog descending over his mind: There was no absolute rule to govern what must happen. Chaos was randomness, the inability to reliably predict all variables to determine a definite outcome.

Tony twisted his head and looked down a long tunnel with a small spot of fading light at the end. In the center of that oasis in the darkness was the medical room where his body lay on the table. Rhodes was moving toward him with an anguished look on his face and his fist raised aggressively.

"Good seeing you, Yinsen," Tony gasped. "Romanoff… I'm gonna miss you."

**oOoOo**

In the operating theater, machines screamed ominous flat tones. The medical professionals were backing away from the table in fear. Later, when told how others observed those moments, Rhodes did not recall barking the order for everyone to step away. He did remember hearing the deadly tones informing everyone in the room that Tony Stark's heart had finally stopped and was resisting all efforts to start again. The sound was a scream of defeat in Rhodes's ears that got under, around, and through ever last nerve he had. It spiked anger in him that he had never felt before and found him snatching up the cylinder that contained the injector for Carol Danver's gift: the Xorian Elixir. He flipped it open then plunged the business end into Tony's chest just inches from the bullet hole that had leaked so much blood.

**oOoOo**


	41. Chapter 41

**oOoOo**

Rhodes sat across the narrow aisle in the back of the Quinjet from the vessel's precious cargo. The drone of the slowing engines lulled him into a nearly hypnotic state as he stared at the supine, unmoving body of Tony Stark encased in a vibranium pod.

They'd been in the air for nearly five hours. The Wakandans had prepped them for flight more just over 12 hours after Tony flat-lined in their operating theater. He was now in a regeneration cradle to finish the work they began in Africa. Their procedure had ultimately been successful (once Rhodes introduced the final extreme measure: the Xorian Elixir). The alien cocktail jump started Tony's heart. The scans and testing done afterward revealed there was no indication of permanent damage done to any major system. The bullet wound, although it should have been fatal, was being repaired with synthetic tissue. The blood loss was mitigated by Rhodes's own donation. The cellular degradation was stopped by the earlier dysprosium treatments and the existing damage was being repaired by regeneration cradle at a rate sufficient that Shuri decreed it was safe to transport the patient home. A call from her brother, who had remained in the United States, indicated a hasty departure was wisest to preserve the patient's anonymity and to return him to his family.

To facilitate that return, Barton flew to Wakanda solo. Until he landed, he believed he was coming to retrieve a corpse and bring home a grieving friend. From his seat in the cockpit, Barton had been quiet for the return flight. No one at the base was seeking updates on their cargo as Fury's people were too busy processing dozens of recovering human drones (removing the control discs embedded in their skulls) while tearing apart the computer system that held all of Ghost's operation. It wasn't until the airborne crew was nearly in US air space that it occurred to Barton there was someone who would not be busy with SHIELD's business. A call to Cap brought information that prompted a quick conversation with Rhodes and sped up their journey home.

"Nearly there," Barton called from the cockpit. "Any sign he's coming around?"

"We're cutting it close," Rhodes replied. "Shuri said he needed at least five more hours in this thing."

"If Tony can learn thermonuclear astrophysics overnight," Barton huffed, "then he can wake up from his coma 15 minutes early."

Rhodes grunted and hit the keys to open the lid of the sustaining cradle. The hydraulics hissed, sliding back the cover. The sound of the engines signaled Barton was throttling back as New York's coastline came into view far below.

"Tony?" Rhodes spoke hesitantly.

His friend had been unconscious since Strange sent him through the portal to Wakanda. Rhodes had lost track of how long ago that was. That bothered Rhodes as much as watching his friend flat-line in the Wakanda operating room. Even when Rhodes pumped him full of the alien substance that restarted Tony's heart the way rebooting a computer could clear stalls in the buffer, it took a minute for his vital signs to pick up to a sufficiently regular pace that Shuri's team was confident enough to rule him not actually dead. After that, they set out the rest of their mending and altering of his tissues.

The results of their hours of effort landed him in the regeneration cradle that was still literally replacing his damaged cells—nearly 40 percent of his tissues were in need of the intervention at the time. The stress of the process had been too great to allow even the remotest consciousness. With the process nearly complete, Rhodes was still saying silent prayers of thanks for the saving grace of the time traveling dysprosium treatments and the sheer brilliance of the Wakandans. While time traveling injections had created an obstacle early in Wakanda's lifesaving efforts, ultimately they had done what Banner and Strange predicted: They stopped further degradation and gave Shuri the fighting chance her team needed to save Tony.

Rhodes waited beside the pod to a reaction to his voice. He sat with one hand clasping his other, which was closed in a fist. Both hands were wedged under his chin to hold up his weary head. His elbows rested on his knees. One good thing about being paralyzed, he realized, was that sitting for long periods didn't cause pins and needles sensation in the legs. He huffed quietly to himself at the callous thought. He also smirked as it was an observation Tony would likely have made to him. When the paralyzing injury first happened, Tony got him to one of the best trauma surgeons in the world in a matter of hours. Once he was released from the hospital, his friend presented him with what Rhodes knew was the only thing that kept him going (and that kept his friend busy enough to remain sane during that period): the exoskeleton. Far beyond the stationary stabilizing braces the physical therapists suggested, Tony's creation allowed Rhodes what no one in the medical field said was possible: autonomous mobility.

Initially, Tony had hovered around Rhodes, tinkering incessantly with the electrical relays and pestering Rhodes for suggestions on what needed improving. He had blamed himself for the War Machine suit's inability to recover from the dead dive it made from the sky. He apologized for never thinking of creating a failsafe measure for ejecting or parachuting should something like that happen. Rhodes didn't like hearing the guilt in his friend's voice, but he was glad for one thing he did not hear: pity. Tony was sorry Rhodes got hurt, but it never once occurred to him that Rhodes was any less capable after the fall. To Tony, Rhodes's new limitation was just an engineering opportunity. It was matter of creating the right mechanism to return him to his normal functions. In Tony's mind, Rhodes was still worthy of wearing the armor. It never occurred to him that Rhodes was not capable of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with superheroes. That act of confidence had done more for Rhodes's recovery than anything machined in Tony's shop. Amazingly, the psychological recovery from his injury proved to be the easy part.

It had always pained Rhodes that Tony never caught that kind of a break himself. The shrapnel from the bomb that should have killed him in Afghanistan didn't do half the damage that his time in captivity, his daring escape, and the revelations about his world that followed did. Rhodes sighed heavily as he saw Tony begin to stir. He wondered what new psychological damage his friend sustained during his latest escapade and whether he could recover sufficiently from it.

"Tony?" he said again. "Can you hear me?"

Tony's eyes opened to paper-thin slits initially. He saw first the set of Rhodes's jaw. It was tense and brooding. Tony blinked several times to clear his hazy vision as he felt a vibration, like the hum of a large engine. From his limited view, he spotted a dark metal ceiling and close walls that helped him discerned where he must be: in the hull of a Quinjet. The leading the mysteries (once he determined that) were why was he there and what had Rhodes done to make that happen?

"I have so many questions right now," Tony croaked in a weak voice.

"Thank god," Rhodes perked up as he sighed with relief. "You with me?"

"Apparently," he replied. "Is there a better option? Can I be somewhere else? With someone else? I've got a couple suggestions."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Rhodes nodded. "You can see me and hear me? Know who I am?"

"Okay, I swear, if you start asking me who I am like the last time we did this play, I will attack you," Tony grumbled then tried to sit up and found no strength initially to do so. "I mean, as soon as I can move. Ow. I feel like I got stuck in the turbines of a helicarrier… again… except maybe without the suit."

Rhodes offered a dry chuckle and patted his friend's shoulder lightly. He promised Tony that his identity was not in question. All Rhodes wanted to know was how he felt. Tony groaned about pains and head rushes, but overall he was certain he'd felt much worse. He struggled to sit up, needing Rhodes's help to manage it.

"Why am I in a… a… Am I in a pod?" he asked. "You made me a pod person? Why does the writing on the side of this look like it comes from Wakanda?"

"Because it does," Rhodes replied. "It's a regeneration cradle."

"Not a pod?" he pestered as Rhodes helped him swing his legs out of the box to sit up fully.

"No, a cradle, like for a baby," Rhodes huffed. "Makes it perfect for you."

Tony brushed his hand clumsily along some words etched into the side of the cradle.

"Did you steal it?"

"Steal it?" Rhodes repeated. "No. I mean, we'll have to give it back obviously, but…"

"So you did steal it," Tony muttered as he sharpened his gaze on the man seated beside him. "You invaded Wakanda and stole their stuff? I'll admit, I'm a little torn about that. I'm kind of proud at the guts and the skill to manage it, but I'm also highly disappointed in you because you're supposed to be a better man than that, Rhodey. I don't care how good of story you think it is. Stealing from them was a bad idea. They've got some serious tech, and they will find you. I'll hide you as long as I can, but Morgan's playhouse isn't exactly highly fortified."

"Okay, first of all," Rhodes began as a tired smile crept onto his lips, "it would be a great story if that was what happened, but it's not. We were guests; this thing is on loan to us to get you home. Next, you being disappointed in me? There is so much wrong with that. Don't pull the disillusioned Dad thing on me. That's my territory. I do that to you."

"I'm not the one who invaded Wakanda and hijacked their medical equipment," Tony noted.

"Man, why would I invade Wakanda?"

"Obviously, you're jealous of their toys," he ventured.

"Sounds like you're projecting," his friend replied.

"I have more of a deep-seated appreciation than actual jealousy," Tony said. "You said we were guests, but we're on a jet now. Did we get kicked out? What did you do?"

Rhodes stopped himself from making a joke about Tony's reputation getting them deported (even though it was partially true). The thought of even casual insulting him felt stale in his mind.

"I helped save your life," he reported. "They were able to fix you, then they sent you home. Barton's playing pilot. I'm your babysitter because someone has to keep an eye on you pretty much always."

"I knew it," Tony smirked as he nodded slowly. "You're a fan."

Rhodes scoffed as he shook his head as the first sustained wave of relief rolled over the weary colonel. Tony blinked several times as his mind continued to clear. He had various aches in his body but nothing felt like agony, which was odd because he did recall being shot during an ambush that turned into a car accident. He also remembered nearly drowning in his own blood and getting his nerves a little fried after a couple sessions of friendly electrocution from the eager neighborhood psycho.

Even with his feet flat on the floor of the jet, the world continued to spin, but the previously familiar sensation that blood was going to pour of his nose was missing. Tony silently chalked that up as a win. He turned his head toward the cockpit and saw a familiar head commanding the jet.

"You awake up there, Clint?" Tony called.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," the pilot replied, turning his head slightly to nod. "Welcome back to the world of consciousness. No offense, but I don't think Disney is going to ask you to be one of their princesses."

"They couldn't afford me anyway," Tony replied.

"You sure?" Barton asked. "See, I was thinking you must be strapped for cash."

"Why?"

"You didn't pick up the phone to let me know you weren't dead," he answered. "Figured it meant you couldn't afford the call. The alternative was to be insulted and take your slight personally."

"Intentionally or accidentally, if I was going insult you, I'd do it your face," Tony answered.

Barton nodded, accepting the statement as the closest thing to an apology as he was likely to get.

"As payback," he responded, "I'm showing up at your place with my wife and kids this summer. We're going camping on your lake. Oh, and I'm going to introduce your daughter to archery. Get used to the sight of targets on everything in your house."

Tony nodded.

"Great, Morgan already likes hitting things," he said. "She flies her remote control helicopter into the side of the house two or three times a week. I've been thinking of building her a treehouse so she can wreck that rather than the real house."

"I can help with that," Barton said eagerly. "The building part. I leave destruction to kids and engineers."

Tony scoffed as he accepted the jab. His olive branch exchange with the archer complete, he then turned to Rhodes once more.

"So the Wakanda doctors fixed me?" he remarked. "If that's the case, why do I feel like I got hit by a bus?"

"That is one catastrophe we managed to avoid," Rhodes explained with a smirk. "You had a metal probe jammed in your head. You got shot in the chest, and then you fell like four stories—but you didn't hit the ground. Points to Parker on that. He's pretty accurate with his webs."

Tony looked around, noting Peter was not present. As Rhodes didn't sound worried about the kid, Tony presumed that meant he was fine and not part of the transport delegation.

"So I got hit with all of that and still managed to wake up wearing a Tom Ford suit," he noted as he looked at the sleeves of the silk shirt and dark trousers he wore. "I either have skills nobody else possesses, or you had me dressed for my funeral and don't want to admit."

Rhodes ignored the comment. Cap had sent Barton on the trip with a suit figuring they would be bringing back a corpse. The jacket and tie were left off when the nurses got Tony dressed and ready for his long sleep in the cradle as they were certain at that point he would survive. Instead of dwelling on that, Rhodes explained to Tony the work the Wakandans did to save him from both the damage caused by his cellular degradation issue as well as the injuries sustained during his week at Camp Crazy. He also gave brief details about the other part of the rescue, the one that sent Tony's friends into the past. As Rhodes spoke, images—random and rapid—began exploding in Tony's head with no rhyme or reason to their triggers or significance.

"By the way," Rhodes added, "I probably should have started with this: It turns out that you're actually you. I mean you're the real, one and only, Tony Stark. You're the actual guy I've always known—no alternate reality. You're a time kidnapping victim. You can get the details from Bruce and Dr. Strange. I just wanted to say…. Look, I'm sorry about not figuring out you were actually you."

"You would have if you loved me enough," Tony chided as he loosed a dramatic sigh.

"Shut up, man," Rhodes scolded without offense. "In my defense, I was still mourning you when you showed up just after your funeral."

Tony smirked as he scrubbed his hands over his face then massaged his temples.

"My ego appreciates how you managed to make your attitude problem all about me," he said, letting his friend off the hook. He suddenly dropped his head to his hands as the images flashing in his memory nearly overwhelmed him.

Rhodes noticed the reaction and put a hand on Tony's shoulder, ready to pounce and render emergency aid, but Tony backed him off. He muttered that the missing five years of his life were popping up in his mind like computer files springing open on a screen at random. It was dizzying and confusing, but they were filling in many of gaping holes he'd struggled with since coming back. Rhodes assured him none of that posed any danger to him.

"So, if I'm not dying from anything right now," Tony asked, "why are you hovering? Barton made the Sleeping Beauty joke, but I don't need a kiss from you to wake up fully. Don't get me wrong. You're a handsome devil and have always been special to me, but I prefer Pepper. Don't worry. You can still be my sidekick, the Robin to my Batman."

"Okay, you are not Batman," Rhodes argued.

"Billionaire, genius, orphan who fights villains with cool toys that he makes himself," Tony interrupted, ticking off the qualities on his fingers. "I had an Alfred, but I called him Jarvis."

"Tones, Batman kept his caped crusader identity secret—you outed yourself as Iron Man after like 30 minutes—and I am not Robin," Rhodes asserted. "I'm older than you. I'm way more mature than you. If anything, you're more like my ward with the way I've had to babysit you and…"

"Fine, pick a different sidekick name for yourself if it means that much to you," Tony said. "Boo-Boo to my Yogi."

"Stop it," Rhodes insisted. "Man, I'm not your sidekick."

"I hear you, and I would agree with you except then we'd both be wrong," Tony replied. "Rhodey, you are my wingman, ergo my sidekick. That's why I made you matching armor: so we could be twinseis."

Rhodes's face never made it to a scowl. Instead, it scrunched into a smirk as he fought the laugh that percolated in his chest. The urge to also cuff his friend was just as strong, but he managed to hold back seeing that Tony was no match for even a mosquito at that moment. Instead, he put his hand on Tony's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I should've made them fix more than your bleeding wounds," Rhodes scoffed then tapped his friend on the forehead lightly. "I should've had them rewire a few things in here and flip that jackass switch permanently in the off position."

"Then you'd miss my unique charm," Tony grinned.

"For the record, you're out of spare lives," Rhodes continued soberly. "No more near-death scenes for at least another 30 or 40 years, you got that?"

Tony nodded weakly. The pain he felt was rapidly fading, but even the hint of it did help him focus. He was glad the feeling of drowning in his own skin was gone. He looked around the jet, searching for a face he thought had been there with him just before waking, but he saw only Rhodes and Barton.

"She wasn't really here," he muttered to himself and felt a renewed pang of loss at the realization that Natasha was indeed gone.

"No, Pepper's not here," Rhodes said, misunderstanding him. "She didn't come to Wakanda."

"Good," Tony nodded, shelving his memory as a delusion. "Pepper shouldn't be traveling because…"

He paused as his heart began to race along with his troubling thoughts. He pressed his hand to his chest as he stood up then grabbed Rhodes's arm for support.

"No, wait," Tony exclaimed. "We do need to bring her. Rhodey, the baby probably has the same condition I did. Whatever they did to me, he needs it, too."

"Hey, calm down; you're not fully recovered yet so take it easy," he coaxed Tony back to a sitting position as he appeared unsteady on his feet. "I asked about the baby. The folks in Wakanda said what they did for you wouldn't work on him, but don't worry. Bruce apparently had an idea. He treated the baby with your father's formula."

"He what?!"

Tony was on his feet again (and regretting it as his knees began to buckle). Rhodes kept him from falling to the floor just as Barton announced that they were going to begin their descent. Rhodes wrestled his wobbly friend into a seat and did his best to rapidly explain that Pepper made the choice to take the treatment in lieu of doing nothing. The alternative, he explained, was allowing the devastating inevitable happen to their child. Tony pressed his hand to his chest, feeling is heart throbbing rapidly against the recently mended tissue. Rhodes's words like "experts agreed" and "blank slate" made their way to Tony's ears, but the only thing that kept him from a complete anxiety meltdown was the knowledge that Pepper made the decision of her own volition. He trusted her judgement above all else in the universe. She'd been right about who he truly was when all the science said she was wrong. Tony didn't like it when science erred and let him down, but he had faith in Pepper since that was something she never did.

"She's okay?" he asked. "Did it work?"

"I think they needed more time to know if the serum did anything," Rhodes hedged. "I didn't get the details. I was a little busy saving your ass."

"Does she know I'm fine?"

"Tones, she's known you for like 25 years," he said flatly. "She's never thought you were fine."

"Rhodes," Barnes scolded from the cockpit, "you woke him up before we landed for a reason. Enough stalling. We're two minutes out. Tell him now, or take the controls and I'll do it."

"Tell me what?" Tony demanded.

Rhodes sighed and nodded. He scrubbed a hand over his weary face and looked at his friend to see a pinch of fear forming in his eyes. Tony's dark gaze was always expressive and that was doubly so when he was worried. Barton's comment had put the weary man on high alert. His body was rigid. His jaw tensed. His mouth was a flat line on the verge of becoming a blur of rapid questions.

"Pepper started having contractions," he explained. "I brought you out of the stasis sleep earlier than planned because we got word from Cap that she was admitted to the hospital. They tried to stop the contractions, but they couldn't. She's in labor. We're trying to get you to the hospital in time."

**oOoOo**

Strange exited Pepper's room. He told himself he was merely sticking around for the birth because something could go awry. How that undefined 'something' was in anyway his business was hard to pinpoint so he simply opted to not bother with it. He'd convinced his one-time girlfriend, Dr. Christine Palmer, to step in and take the case. Formerly a trauma specialist, Christine had needed an emotional break from the damage and pain she saw in the ER every day so when the first snap occurred and left the obstetrics ward with nearly no experienced doctors, she turned her sights on caring for expectant mothers and delivering babies. Five years later, she did not regret the change so when Strange brought her a patient, she did not protest.

Palmer was down the hall prepping for the imminent birth and getting the neonatal unit on standby as this child was arriving early with possible catastrophic complications. Strange was preparing to join her to scrub up when the last person he expected to attend the birth appeared in the hallway breathless, anxious, and looking a lot more alive than Strange thought remotely possible given what he recalled from the last time he put eyes on the man.

"You look awful," Strange observed and instantly put his fingers to the side of Tony's neck to check his heart rate only to get his hand slapped away.

"And you look like the guy who jabbed me with a needle when I had a broken collar bone," Tony countered.

"That wasn't me," Strange shook his head. "I was just an advisor. Steve Rogers got the actual honors. I bet him that you'd never remember. Now, I owe him $10. Can you handle this?" He gestured to the room behind him. "You're not going to faint, are you?"

Tony shook his head as a rush of memories assaulted his mind: Pepper in labor, Morgan making her sticky and bloody appearance into the world, the little girl's first cry.

"I remember what to do,"" Tony nodded confidently. "I let Pepper crush my hand as she screams and swears at me. I can handle that."

Strange rolled his eyes then gestured toward the patient's door. Tony moved toward it but stopped and looked the man squarely in the eyes.

"Thank you," he said. "Rhodey told me the gist of what you figured out and what you did for me. You saved me… again."

"Hippocratic oath rather than universal salvation," Strange replied flatly. "You were like my patient this time so I didn't have a choice."

"Right," Tony nodded. "Well, I take back every questionable thing I've said about you and your ridiculous cape."

"We're even," Strange nodded. "And thank you."

"For what?" Tony asked wondering what he'd done while being half dead in Wakanda.

Strange sighed and tilted his head before offering a slight grin.

"For doing exactly what I knew you would," he replied. "Now, get in there so your wife can start calling you all the names you deserve."

**oOoOo**

Inside the room, Pepper was in agony on several fronts.

The physical pain was excruciating but familiar. Like with Morgan, she had refused painkillers. It made even greater sense this time as she was concerned what effect any chemical would have on her unborn child while the process of altering his RNA to fix his DNA was still in progress. She had initially wanted to refuse the steroid treatments they gave her in the failed attempt to halt her premature labor, but Dr. Palmer and Dr. Strange assured her that those would not cause any adverse reaction with the serum. Strange even theorized that if anything, steroids might speed the formula's effect. Now that labor could no longer be stalled, other pains were taking creeping in as well: the kind stemming from anguish.

Her son was arriving early. Even without his specific concerns, that easily could mean life threatening complications: deafness, blindness, and/or a compromised respiratory system. There was also the anxiety that Tony was not with her. She had managed to learn a few details that Tony had been found and he was injured. How badly he was hurt she did not know. She was told only that Rhodes was with her husband. Once her labor pains began in earnest, all she could concentrate on was what was happening to her and her child as she fought fears about her husband. Thus, she was astounded when in the lull between contractions the door opened and Tony appeared.

"Pepper," he said, taking her hand and brushing sweaty strands of hair from her face. "Honey, how are you doing?"

Her face was blotchy and scrunched with pain. She blinked through tears and squeezed his hand tightly to convince herself that he was in fact real, and she was not hallucinating.

"Tony?" she gasped.

"You know someone else who looks like this?" he said then kissed her forehead lightly. "So, you just had to get a head start without me, huh? That'll teach me to be away for a few days without checking in, I guess."

"Are you alright?" she panted.

"Always been a point for debate," he said.

"Are you?" she demanded.

"I'm making inappropriate light remarks in a tense situation," Tony replied. "That means I'm fine."

"Or it could mean you're dying," she groaned as the pain flared again.

"My jokes would be funnier if I was," he assured her. "Let's focus on you right now."

"I'm so glad to see you," she grimaced then squeezed as the contraction racked her body leaving her shaking.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Tony winced. "Wow. I forgot how strong you are. Maybe I should borrow one of Rhodey's gauntlet's to get through this." She shook her head and earned an uncomplicated smile from him that made tears of relief leak from her eyes. "Okay, just don't hurt me too much. I've had a few rough days."

"Am I hurting you?" Pepper asked, instantly letting go of his hand out of fear she would cause some devastating injury that would leave him in need of emergency treatment.

Tony read that worry on her face and hung his head in shame. He spent years as the personification of a bad-assed superhero and apparently finished off a ginormous alien maniac who erased half of the universe, but his wife thought a little hand holding was going to land him in the ICU. He sighed and wrapped his hand around hers again.

"You've just done a spectacular job of demolishing my self-esteem and scarring my ego," he said flatly. "The rest of me is fine."

"Did the shots work?" she asked with desperation. "Are you cured?"

Tony smirked at her persistent worry as he nodded.

"Everything that's happened to me in since October is fixed," he assured her. "Rhodey assures me that all the lifelong quirks that pre-existed still need work. Maybe Morgan can make me a card for that saying: _Get better, Daddy. I know you're not sick; I just think you could be better_."

Pepper laughed through her pain as she tried to concentrate on her breathing. A nurse entered the room and near tripped as she looked at Tony. He glanced at her then offered a simple nod. The woman swallowed and looked at the tablet in her hands that contained the patient information. Her face went white with shock and recognition as she looked up again. Tony sighed and addressed her, hoping that a question might snap her out of her trance.

"So," he began, "everything good here?"

"Um, uh," the nurse swallowed and looked pointedly back at the table containing the patient chart then from Tony to Pepper and back again. "Is… this your first baby?"

"Don't," Pepper warned him as she saw a grin start in his eyes.

"No, I'm her husband," Tony replied.

"Same difference," his wife hissed in pain as she scolded him. "I can't believe you said that."

"More proof everything is fine," he assured her.

"Tony, I swear," she said through clenched teeth, "I will rip your arm off and beat you with it if you keep that up."

The nurse scurried from the room just after reporting that Dr. Palmer and Dr. Strange would be with them any minute. Pepper nodded her thanks, but her worry grew stronger with each ensuing contraction.

"The baby's early," she said to Tony. "It's my fault. I had Bruce give me the serum. It made the labor start. The baby's not supposed to be born yet. I'm sorry."

"For what?" Tony asked as he gently cupped her cheek. "You did what you decided was right. One of the universal constants is that Pepper Potts is never actually wrong about the big or important things—ever. It's part of what makes you perfect, honey. Besides, you don't know if the serum did this. You've been having contractions for more than a week off and on, as I recall. The baby was probably going to come early no matter what. Morgan came two weeks early. Her brother is just trying to top that. It's a Stark thing, proving that he's advanced, too. So, just keep breathing. Everything's going to be okay. We've got a wizard helping delivering our baby. I think this guarantees the kid's admission into Hogwarts."

She allowed a quick giggle as she seethed in pain.

"Not pulling for MIT for him?" she asked.

"We'll call the magic school a safety option in case MIT's standards have dropped in a few years," he replied.

"Did they fix your memory?" she grimaced. "Do you remember who you are?"

He assured her he did and to prove it offered up a few details that had recently bubbled up in his memory.

"You had Happy drive us to the hospital when you were in labor for Morgan because you thought I was too nervous," he recalled. "On her second Christmas, Morgan un-decorated the tree. She stripped off all the ornaments she could reach and arranged them on the floor like she was diagramming parts of the periodic table."

Pepper huffed with pain and relief as she squeezed hand. She smiled painfully at his accurate recollection of at least part of the incident but shook her head at part of it as well.

"She was a year and a half old," Pepper grimaced. "I know you think that was a sign of her brilliance, but they just like to take things apart at that age."

"Then it's a good thing we didn't have a cat," Tony noted as he pressed a reassuring kiss to her beaded forehead as she winced rather than laugh. "Just breath, Pep. Everything's gonna be fine. "

**oOoOo**

Rhodes sat alone in the small waiting area down the hall from Pepper's room. A team dressed in scrubs entered the room a long time earlier with an impressive array of equipment. He wasn't sure when they left because he had nodded off, but he saw what looked like stragglers leaving the room later. A glance at his watch let him know he'd slept for a couple hours.

Night had passed over the city, and dawn too was a memory. The new day stretched its bright arms over the skyline. Rhodes slouched on an uncomfortable vinyl sofa. His head rested heavily in his hands. From the lack of traffic in the hallway, there seemed to be no one else in the rooms on that floor. He was shaking the cobwebs from his mind when his phone chimed. Unfortunately, they were messages from others (Barton and Cap) asking if he had any update. He was weary from waiting and was considering an excursion to find a vending machine for coffee when a cup was suddenly thrust toward him at the end of a rigid, blue arm.

"This should be sufficiently vile to wake you," Nebula said before taking a seat beside him.

"Morning," he croaked. "You just getting here?"

"I was here through the night," she replied. "I watched while you snored."

"I don't snore," Rhodes said.

"Should I ask _She-T_ if that is accurate?" Nebula countered.

Rhodes shook his head as she repeated the nickname Tony chose for Carol Danvers when Rhodes first told him of their initial liaison several years earlier (which Tony then apparently shared with his blue confidante).

"Anyone come out of that room?" he asked.

"Yes, but no one I know," Nebula shook her head. "Several women in colorful uniforms entered then departed. I looked in the observatory for the infant garden and did not see one labeled as a Stark."

"It's called a nursery," Rhodes yawned.

He didn't know if the absence of a baby in the nursery or the presence of nurses was good or bad. He was considering sending Tony a text and hope for good news when his phone sprang to life. The message was from Tony and simple stated: _Still around?_

Rhodes lifted an eyebrow then tapped out a message that he was. The response fired back instantly: _Roadtrip_.

"Roadtrip?" Rhodes repeated. "What the hell?"

He stood up and, while wearing a confused expression, started down the hall. Nebula hung back as he approached Pepper's door. Tony appeared before Rhodes could open it. His friend looked no worse (but also no better) than when Rhodes saw him last. Dark circles ringed Tony's eyes. There was an overall air of exhaustion around him, and his complexion was reporting he'd nearly died of excessive blood loss recently but had somehow managed to hang on.

"Good," Tony pointed at him triumphantly. "I need my wingman."

There was an anxious and manic look in his eyes that Rhodes recognized from years of watching his best friend force himself through routines to tamp down fear. Seeing it never boded well for what Tony might do next. Rhodes was instantly on alert.

"Need me for what?" he asked.

"First, let the record show you just admitted to being my wingman," Tony noted.

"Is everything okay?" Rhodes asked. "How's Pepper? How's the baby? How are you?"

"Uh, Pepper is exhausted and still worried," he admitted as he swallowed with difficulty. "The baby is… He's sleeping down the hall in the NICU. It's tucked away from the other… regular, healthy babies, but I've got this so…."

He pulled out his phone and showed a camera feed broadcasting video of a small body swaddled in blankets and wearing a tiny, light blue knitted cap. From the angle of the video, it was apparent Tony had hijacked the hospital's own security. Rhodes nodded and patted his friend's arm in consolation.

"He's hanging in there?" he asked.

"So far," Tony nodded as he stared at the video. "They had him on oxygen earlier, but they've taken him off that, which is a good sign. Now, they've just got him on a breathing and heart monitor—they say those are routine for a preemie since his lungs were what they call wet. They weren't fully formed and ready to expand yet, but kids born even early than him pull often through so everyone's optimistic… basically."

His expression was guarded, but the fear was evident.

"What about the other stuff?" Rhodes asked. "Did the serum work?"

Tony nodded cautiously and said Strange was reviewing the blood test results along with Banner to triple check (just in case). Tony had sent Banner a quick thank you message for going with his gut on this because it appeared administering the serum was the right call to solve the biggest problem the child faced: survival.

"So that's all good news," Rhodes nodded.

"So far," Tony agreed. "He's also gotta stay under these specialized lights to prevent jaundice. His liver wasn't ready to start working so his body is having a hard time breaking down a chemical called bilirubin, which is created when the body replaces old red blood cells with new ones. That's apparently typical for preemies too."

Tony sighed and proclaimed he had a lot of homework to do to understand all the possible complications and treatments that were likely in his son's future. He said he'd had Harley in the garage since 3 a.m. working on the specs for lung and heart monitors—something more mobile and accurate than what the hospital was using. The plan was to create a mobile monitor to allow the family to take the child home as soon as possible. FRIDAY's existing programming was also being calibrated to monitor the biometrics and blood counts for an infant so they could have constant readouts of how the child was progressing.

"That's all I can do," Tony admitted as his voice began to shake. "We, uh, we have to wait for other information. The doctors are going to do preliminary tests within the hour to determine if he's deaf or blind since those are also apparently possibilities. He, uh, he didn't startle when they knocked a tablet off one of the carts in the room. The nurse noticed it and thought it was odd. So they're gonna do some tests." He let out what remained of his breath and shook himself. "But he's alive and that's the headline Pepper and I are mostly focused on right now."

Rhodes nodded and gripped Tony's shoulder tighter while muttering words of encouragement. He reminded his friend that even if the tests came back with devastating results, Tony was the king of technological solutions to biological deficiencies. He slapped the side of his exo-skeleton as a reminder.

"I had a lacerated spinal cord and should have spent the rest of my life sitting down, but I had you in my corner," Rhodes said. "I can run the New York Marathon now if I want to because of you. Tony, there's nothing you can't solve when you put your mind to it."

He got a nod and a sigh in response that seemed to be less rooted in defeat than it did in abject worry and fatigue. Rhodes gave him a hug as he offered congratulations. As he did so, Tony informed him that unfortunately also he had some urgent business away from the hospital that needed his attention. Pepper had received a text message in the last hour from her assistant reminding her that the Board of Directors was meeting soon about the controversial contract with the Department of Defense. The CEO of Stark Industries, despite her own personal worries, felt the issue was of sufficient concern that it could not be ignored or missed. After discussing it with Tony (and confirming with Sam that the danger posed to him by outside foes had passed), they decided it was time for Tony to step out of the shadows and exercise his prerogative as the leading stockholder in his company. Pepper's only request was that Tony take Rhodes with him to see that he only cast his vote then departed the office swiftly to return to the hospital with Morgan.

Tony explained his friend's mission. Rhodes nodded his agreement but was about to express his belief that no contract could be so important that it would pull Tony away from his family when he obviously wanted and needed to stay with Pepper and the baby. However, Rhodes did not get out the words as Tony suddenly stepped away from him and seemed to receive a jolt of energy as he gazed down the hall toward the woman walking toward them cautiously.

"Smurfette!" he exclaimed to the familiar blue head approaching them. "When did you get into the solar system?"

"Recently," Nebula replied tilting her head. "I was told you lost your memory of the years after we met on Titan. Do you recall knowing me?"

"Of course," he proclaimed. "How could I forget you? Rhodey's the one who ignored me for years. You were my space odyssey partner and were always a welcome dinner guest at the house."

His words were barely over his lips before she instantly (and unexpectedly) reached forward and hugged him brusquely. The embrace was sudden, rough, and brief. She released him as quickly as her uncomfortable but genuine smile faded. Tony blinked and looked back at his one-time space companion, who appeared horrified by what she had just spontaneously done.

"Your recollection pleases me," she said as she looked down at the floor.

"It pleases me, too," Tony said simply then tilted his head to catch her gaze. Once he had it, he smiled at her. "Hey, I've got go talk to some people in another building right now, but can I ask a favor of you? I don't trust just anyone to do this, and Pepper wants Rhodey to come with me so…"

"You may ask me anything," Nebula nodded eagerly.

"Pepper's in the room trying to sleep, but they're going to bring our son back to her sometime soon," he said and jerked his thumb toward the door. "I don't expect any trouble, but I'll feel better if someone I know and trust is here to watch over them just in case while I'm away for an hour or so. Could you…?"

She canted her head to the side to show surprise.

"You would entrust me with the lives of your family?" she inquired incredulously.

"Absolutely," Tony said as though the answer was obvious. "You're one of us. Will you help me?"

"I would be honored," Nebula bowed her head.

Tony patted her arm then pulled his hand back as he felt a bend in the metal that didn't belong there.

"Whoa, hey," he said with concern. "That doesn't look or feel right. What happened?"

"Cargo bay door and a moron," she answered.

"Quill?"

"The tree," she said.

Tony looked back blankly, unsure what a plant had to do with her damage, but he figured it wasn't important or it was something he should recall but still didn't. He pushed the wondering out of his mind.

"I can fix that," Tony offered. "Are you sticking around for a few days? You can come to the house once we're home. Morgan can make you a card—I hope you still like glitter. When you're there, just give me like an hour in the shop. We'll make that as good as new. Actually, if you want…" He peered at it closely. "We could do an upgrade, too. I've got ideas if you're interested."

The briefest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she offered a curt nod.

"Tony," Rhodes snagged his attention, seeing his friend slipping into his preferred way to channel anxiety by finding a project to tinker with. "Are we going to the Tower or not?"

"Right," he nodded as he shook his head clear. "We should hurry. The helicopter should be here. Nebula, you and I will talk when I get back. Yeah?"

"Your family will be here unmolested when you return," she promised.

"From anyone else that wouldn't be remotely reassuring, but from you I like it," Tony said as he flashed her a peace sign as he turned to hurry toward the elevator. "I'm happy you're here. It's good to see you."

Nebula lifted her chin then flatted her mouth as she placed herself imposingly in front of the door to Pepper's room.

**oOoOo**

The helicopter landed atop Stark Tower while the morning rush was getting into full swing may stories below. The sun was breaking through the clouds and a beautiful June morning was rolling across the city. Tony and Rhodes made their way from the helipad to the penthouse. Considering how late (or rather how early) it was when there was finally news to deliver, Pepper had asked Tony to hold off calling Happy, who was watching Morgan at the family's city residence. He had taken her there with Peter when Pepper was transported to the city from the base.

For that reason, the unofficial nanny was in the dark on what was going on with all members of the Stark family. Thus, he was not expecting Tony to walk into the apartment.

He and Rhodes entered to find Happy sitting on the couch observing Morgan building an odd and unrecognizable structure from an impressive pile of Legos. As Tony walked in, Happy scrambled off the couch as quickly as his large frame would allow. Tony nodded to his friend and former employee, who looked to be on the verge of a heart attack or tears. Tony then turned his gaze to the child whose face was twisted in a knot of concentration as she stared intently at her contraption.

"So this is where you're hiding out," he remarked, snagging her attention. "Did you come here to look for a job so you can start paying your fair share of the bills, Little Miss?"

Upon hearing his voice, Morgan squealed with delight. Her face split into a grin as she dropped her Legos then bolted across the room to fling herself at him.

Tony's knees felt weak and his arms just as useless, but he scooped her up out of elation more than strength. He hugged her like he hadn't seen her in years then placed a grateful kiss on her cheek. She hugged him tightly and beamed.

"Daddy!" Morgan yelped. "Happy said we wouldn't see you, but I said we would."

"Yeah, you're like Mommy," Tony said. "You don't get much wrong."

"Can we go see the story lady in the park?" Morgan asked.

"Not today, sweetie," he said earning a frown that pained him.

He knelt down as he put her back on her feet. He let his eyes feast upon her as lost memories began popping in his head like fireworks set off on the 4th of July: the first time he saw her, the first time he held her, the day they brought her home from the hospital, her first Christmas, her first tooth, her first steps, her first words. All of them poured forth in his memory like the foaming waters of a damn bursting. It was dizzying and snatched his breath, but he kept his eyes on her face to maintain his balance and focus.

"I've got to get changed then go to a meeting downstairs," he apologized. "When I'm done that, you're going with me to see Mommy and meet your brother."

"Oh, shit," she sighed and jutted her lip forward in a pout.

"Okay, Morgoona, any word but that one today, please," he shook his head as he heard Rhodes sniggering behind him. "Words like that make Uncle Rhodey cry."

Her reaction obviously wasn't rooted in excitement or joy, but Tony was glad to note that it also wasn't a tantrum. Happy sighed heavily and offered a concerned look that Tony allayed with a quick grin.

"Pepper's fine," he reported then looked at his phone with a frown. "The baby's small but feisty. They're keeping an eye on him for now. I'm hoping to hear from Pepper any time now if he's… got any issues. They're doing tests. I've got to get dressed to deal with the Board. Can you get Morgan ready to go see Pepper? After I'm done downstairs, we'll all head to the hospital in the helicopter."

After a quick kiss from Morgan, Tony sent her back to her toys then went quickly to his room. Pepper had told him his clothes were clothes still in the closet, and she was not wrong. He quickly got ready. The Armani suit left hanging in the closet for at least a year was still pressed and left him looking like a well-dress zombie. He rushed back to the living room to find Happy whispering conspiratorially with Rhodes. From the way they looked at Tony, he knew he was the topic of conversation.

"I'm fine," he assured them. "Happy, you're off the hook for babysitting as soon as I finish talking to the grumpy old men downstairs. Morgan and I will stay here until everyone's discharged. You've got some serious time off coming to you. Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to do, name it. I'll cover it."

"You don't have to…," Happy began but was cut off.

"May is probably pissed at you (because of me)," Tony said. "Call it a hunch based on personal experience with women. So, take the jet to LA and spend a week with her on the yacht. Or fly her to Venice. Book the Palladio Suite at Cipriani. I'm about to be publically alive again so I'm allowed to spend my money."

Happy smiled and nodded eagerly at the thought, but he eyed his friend and former protectee with concern.

"I think I should stick close for a little while, Chief," he said. "You guys might need me."

"Always," Tony agreed, "but that doesn't mean you aren't taking a vacation."

He then waved off the man's concern and assured Happy he was fine and had a stellar keeper for his next task. He then nodded to Rhodes.

"Okay," Happy relented, marginally satisfied. "Is the kid going with us, too?"

Tony's brow furrowed as he looked at Morgan, feeling like he'd just given Happy a clear instruction regarding the child. Before he could ask where the confusion lay, the door to the penthouse opened and Peter entered holding an apple.

"I didn't see the blue box apple juice Morgan wanted at the store, but I went around the corner and there was a vender with actual apples so…," he began then halted in place mid-sentence and gasped. "Mr. Stark?"

Tony jerked his head to the side for Happy to start getting Morgan ready—finding her shoes was practically the search for the Holy Grail somedays and could take up to an hour if she'd been extra creative in where she kicked them off. Before joining the search, Morgan ran to Peter and swiped the apple he held. She then took Happy's hand as he led her toward her room which left him fumbling as she asked him what the word "pissed" meant. As Happy tried to talk his way through explaining a new curse word to the child, Peter's face broke into a surprised grin. The teen braced himself on the doorframe as the sudden turn of his morning hit him full-force.

"You're okay, sir?" he exhaled in a shaky fashion.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "How about you? You good?"

"Fine, sir," he croaked as he dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "I thought you were… I saw you get shot, and I tried to… I thought you…"

"In Wakanda we trust, Pete," Tony assured him. "You look like you want to hug me. Don't. I'm sore. What are you doing here?"

"I've been helping Happy," he replied. "Morgan, she was… She begged me to stay. I read her like 10 stories last night before she fell asleep."

"Amateur," Tony scoffed.

"Right," Peter nodded as his grin widened. "I'm really glad to see you, sir. I thought you were… That you had… I'm glad that, you know, you… didn't… Uh…"

"New rule," Tony said as he walked toward the door. Rhodes walked in front of him as Tony gripped Peter's shoulder and coaxed the teen to follow him. "I'm not dead unless I tell you, or I put it in writing for you. Got that? Now, come with me in case I need more than Rhodey as a witness. Pick up the pace, kid. I'm late already."

**oOoOo**

The Stark Board of Directors' conference room was wide room with cream colored walls, a Scandinavian inspired board table, and a bank of windows overlooking the city. Sunlight streamed through them as the dozen board members, mostly severe and stoic looking men, sat in their designated seats as Vice President Jacob DeLeer finished his pitch to temporarily remove Pepper Potts as CEO of Stark Industries.

His motion had been, at least as far as the minutes of the meeting would reflect, that doing so was a humanitarian gesture. The company would be looking out for both the welfare of the corporation and Potts. Her child, (allegedly Tony Stark's last creation in the world, DeLeer said), deserved a mother unburdened with the frantic stress caused by a job that had reportedly put her on bedrest and left her out of contact for several days. While there was concern among the members that sidelining her would cause the stock to plummet as it would appear there was instability in the company, DeLeer had a proposition to shore up the shareholders' confidence: a new government contract. The previously announced development plan for a simple EM pulse generator to help disable malfunctioning weather satellites would be expanded and given a greater array of military uses—allegedly humane and definitely in need. He prophesied that with him at the helm, the company would dip its toes back into the world of military hardware and resume its place at the top of that mountain by the end of the next fiscal quarter.

The members listened to the well-crafted speech and exchanged uncertain looks, but several of them grinned in a greedy fashion. Military contracts were guarantees of big bucks which would send stock prices soaring to the point that no one would care if Pepper Potts ever resumed her post at the head of the company.

"So, I move…," DeLeer was stating as the doors to the board room opened, held in that dramatic position by Rhodes and Peter.

"Yeah, moving is a good idea, Jake," Tony announced as he walked in. "Your ass is where it doesn't belong: in my wife's chair. Get out of it."

Rhodes eyed DeLeer with a grin. Peter leaned on the door, absent his Iron Spider suit and clad in his civilian attire (at Tony's request). The teen was uncertain why he was brought along to the meeting. He knew little about finance or running a business. How one man could override a room of so many others was confusing to him, but he looked to Rhodes who grinned widely, a sign he was in agreement with whatever was unfolding before them.

"Wha-what?" DeLeer gasped as the rest of the board inhaled sharply and exclaimed various forms of disbelief and surprise. "Tony? You… You… You can't be here."

"I own the building," Tony stated. "I can go wherever I want in this place. You, on the other hand, don't belong here—I've felt that for an extremely long time, but many of the sour faces around this table wouldn't let me get rid of you. Well, to hell with them. No more Mr. Nice Stark. Jake, it gives no pleasure on one hand and euphotic glee on the other to say this: You're fired."

"I'm what?" the man gaped. "You can't. For what?"

"Oh, I can and I'm glad you asked," Ton replied. "You're out of here for violating the ethics and professional conduct clauses in your contract. Oh, and you're wanted by German authorities for several violations of their penal code. BTW: Your sex life is not so much kinky as it is sordid, and it pisses me off that I know anything about it. As I understand it, the extradition papers are being fast-tracked with the State Department. For that reason, I took the liberty of sending security and someone from legal to your office to pack it up for you. That'll help speed your departure while ensuring you don't destroy any evidence or inadvertently take anything proprietary when you leave. I'd have said '_before the door hits your ass on the way out,_' but as I understand it that titillates you, and I'm going to make sure that nothing about this company ever facilitates you experiencing even a split second of pleasure for the rest of your miserable life."

The board members stirred and exchanged more bewildered glances. They gaped and gasped at both who was speaking and what he was saying. Tony clapped his hands once and swiveled his gaze to eye all of them individually.

"So, you all were about to vote on something," he noted as he leaned on the table near the vacated seat. "Let's get to it and not waste any more of my time. It's been a while since I've done this, but I remember the drill. Do all of you? With Pepper's proxy, I've got 60 percent of the votes. The rest of you together have 40 percent. Say, Jake, before you try to run in what will be a spectacularly failed attempt to flee, what does that Harvard MBA tell you is about to happen here?"

DeLeer ducked his chin to his chest and scurried out of the room but found Stark security officers on his tail. Rhodes smirked and caught Peter's eye as they each held a post on either side of the heavy, mahogany double doors.

"Is this a good thing?" Peter asked him quietly.

"Oh yeah," Rhodes nodded. "Tony's sort of tinkering to get his mind off something else—he's just not using tools to do it. I'm not supposed to encourage it, but I love it when Tony does stuff like this. I wish we had popcorn."

For as much as he did adore it when his friend took charge of situations that were rightfully his for the steering, Rhodes forgot there often came a point when Tony would take the moment too far. His major concern that day was Tony's wellbeing. He knew his friend was running on adrenaline. Rhodes forgot that could easily go to Tony's head. Rhodes was watching for signs his friend was about to crash and that his reserves were spent. His was concerned only with Tony's basic health because all he was supposed to do—the only plan they agreed upon for the morning—was for Tony to crash the meeting and stop the Board from putting Stark Industries back in the weapons business. He was supposed to fire DeLeer and back Stark Industries out of a Defense Department contract the Board should never have considered in the first place. He was then supposed to promptly leave the building with his daughter to go see Pepper. Those were the only action items on their agenda when going to the Manhattan high rise.

Tony managed all the business tasks in a matter of minutes—mostly by talking nearly non-stop, verbally man-handled objecting Board members when they tried to convince him that remaining out of weapons development was costing the company loads of money. Nearly of them fell into line swiftly, showing their shock but also their pleasure at seeing the company's owner and the true gem of their research and development division was in fact alive. A few members, the hardliners who had for years been the source of Tony's reviling of the Board (and thus the reason he abdicated to Pepper his right to appear at meetings), were in a querulous mood. They questioned Tony's authority to be at the meeting, to fire anyone, and to cast a vote on an official matter before the Board. Tony's swift offer to buy out their shares right there silenced a few of them.

The rest shelved their resistance upon the well-timed arrival of the company's chief legal counsel. The sage man in the somber suit stopped further rebellion by asserting Tony's right and authority to do what he was doing as there was no question regarding who he was, his ownership of the controlling interest in the company, and his possession of his wife's proxy to cast votes for her alongside his.

It was when the meeting adjourned that things went off the rails. One of the dissatisfied members demanded to know who would be letting a lobby full of reporters know the scheduled conference to announce the now-defunct Defense Department contract was canceled.

"What press conference?" Tony asked just as he reached the door, pivoting back to look at the members again.

"Tony, no," Rhodes warned but knew he was being ignored. "No press. Not yet. Hospital. Now."

"There's a press conference scheduled to start any minute downstairs," the member revealed. "It's to announce the Stark/DOD contract you just spoiled. The President is here to participate and…"

"Ross is here?" Tony asked.

Rhodes saw the hint of an archaic grin, the likes that would make the Mona Lisa blush, flash across Tony's face at the thought of intentionally giving President Thaddeus Ross a migraine. The old glint of the happy vandal, the child who wreaked havoc on the MIT campus simply because he could, appeared in his eyes. Rhodes watched Tony's need to get at something, to dismantle something more than a contract (and probably cause a lot more chaos than was called for), simmered in his eyes.

"Tony, no," Rhodes warned.

"Tony, yes," his friend replied eagerly as he nodded and his grin widened.

"No," Rhodes insisted. "Definitely no."

"That only works if you're Pepper," Tony clapped his friend on the arm. "And you are not. Let's go say hi to the president."

"Don't," Rhodes said starting after him as he made his way toward the elevators. "Please. Tony? Seriously, man. You're imploding. Don't kick over this domino because you're upset and worried about something else you can't control. Look at me. Don't do this. Not today."

"If I do it tomorrow, he won't be here, Rhodey," he replied. "He's in my building. He's a guest. It would be rude not to say hello."

Peter initially smothered a grin under his hand that he clamped tightly over his mouth as he followed his mentor, but the hairs on his neck began to stand on end as he spied the deep worry lines digging into Rhodes's face as he kept pace with Tony. Staff stopped in their tracks as Tony walked through the hall. He nodded and waved to them, greeting a few by name, causing phones to get dropped, gasps to sound, and a few people to stumble in surprise. Peter and Rhodes got into the elevator with him as Tony began fiddling with his phone. Throughout the long ride down, Rhodes continued his campaign to talk his friend out of whatever he was about to do.

"Tony, are you listening to me?" Rhodes demanded as he placed his arm across the exit as the elevator reached the bottom floor. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Every word," Tony replied in a rote fashion that screamed he was not listening at all.

"Don't do this," Rhodes warned. "I've got a bad feeling about it."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked slightly distracted as he continued to type on his phone.

"You know that feeling you get when you really want to do something, but you know it's actually a bad idea," Rhodes explained.

"Uh, no," he shook his head.

"Yeah, okay, that actually explains a lot," Rhodes nodded then scoffed. "Look, I'm telling you, you are not ready to walk in front of cameras. Your head is somewhere else—and you should be somewhere else. The plan was only to talk to the Board today. Let Fury's people deal with the press. Just follow the original plan. Don't make waves."

"That doesn't sound like my kind of plan," Tony shook his head.

"Which is why it's a better idea than what you're about to do," Rhodes countered. "You're rattled about the baby. You're mad that the Board tried to put you back in the weapons business. You want to take all of that out of someone. Your tantrums never turn out well. It's time to go back to your wife. Go see your family and get some rest, man."

Tony looked up from his phone with a slight smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He then kissed his own hand before patting it several times onto Rhodes' cheek, leaving the man scowling.

"You enjoy playing the cranky babysitter," Tony observed. "I know I'm making you a little nuts right now, but it's not a tantrum. It's payback."

"For what?" Rhodes demanded.

"Stabbing me with a needle—twice: once in Boston, then in Wakanda," Tony replied. "Also for not believing there were ninjas on campus that night I told you I saw one during sophomore year. I had a concussion, but I wasn't exactly wrong. Time traveling you was dressed in black, being all stealthy when you appeared to jab me, then disappeared in a blink. That's probably lesson one in the ninja handbook."

Rhodes growled under his breath that he doubted Tony actually recalled any of that clearly. He charged that Tony was putting the memory together based on what he'd been told since waking up on the jet. He didn't bother to argue that giving Tony the injection in the past helped save his friend's life. It was not lost on Rhodes that his friend was standing beside him (and aggravating him) because he was in fact alive. It was hard to be mad at the guy for that when it was precisely what Rhodes had wanted as a result ultimately.

"You're a pain in my ass," Rhodes muttered but knew he was smirking.

"I wouldn't change you for the world either, Sour Patch," Tony smirked triumphantly.

He tossed a wink at his friend then ducked deftly under his barricading arm before leaving the elevator and striding down the hallway. Peter shrugged for lack of what else he might do and hurried to keep up as Tony snapped his fingers and called to him.

"Peter," he called, "find a new gear and get over here. You need to be with me for this."

"I do?" the teen swallowed. "Um, why?"

"Have you been hanging out with Harley without my supervision?" Tony questioned but did not wait for an answer. "Because I said so should be enough of a reason."

Peter nodded. They were stopped at the end of the hall, just before it opened to the lobby, by the Secret Service. The teenager gulped in surprise as none other than the President of the United States, Thaddeus Ross, stood in front of them.

"Stark, what the hell are you doing?" Ross growled.

"Exercising my First Amendment rights," Tony replied.

"No," the president shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

"You do realize you're standing in my lobby, in my building, at my company, which you want to work with again, don't you?" Tony asked.

"I was informed that you just ended that deal," Ross snarled.

Tony smiled in return. The Secret Service eyed him in a steely fashion.

"Your benefactor, the one who tried to sneak in that contract, is facing charges of soliciting underage prostitutes—sex trafficking victims as it turns out," Tony reported. "That can be the headline today if you want. See this?" He held up his phone. "My lawyers, who are way better than yours, tell me I can send this German police report to every news outlet in the lobby right now. It'll take the press all of an hour to find photos of DeLeer and some key members of your cabinet together during your campaign. A little more digging and they'd find this picture of you two playing golf last year. Now, I could have dropped this story on the media after you stood up to smile with DeLeer at this press conference, but I didn't."

Ross frowned at him and glared in a way that used to make the soldiers under his command wither and crumble. Tony gazed back at him unintimidated and unimpressed.

"Fine," Ross seethed. "What do you want?"

"World peace, a better education system for my kids, the oceans to have more fish than plastic," he began but stopped as Rhodes cleared his throat in reprimand. "But, in the immediate future, I'll take an apology. You knew I was alive. You knew I didn't want my company in the weapons business. You knew my wife couldn't block that contract while I was being kept in the shadows, but you pushed your DOD flunkies to strike a deal with DeLeer anyway. What are the chances that if I dig a little further I'll find out you knew about DeLeer's felonious hobby so you had your people use that to get him to sell the Board that deal I just ended?"

Ross scoffed and shook his head.

"I don't know anything about that," the president replied.

"For expediency, we can pretend that I believe your lie," Tony said.

"What's your point?" Ross asked. "You killed the deal and left me with an omelet on my face since I no longer have an announcement to make to a room full of reporters. I know you, Stark. You've got something else on your mind. What is it?"

"We can still do business," Tony said. "Your administration and my company, I mean. Announce that you're entering into a joint exploratory venture into various forms of green technology."

"Wrong party," Ross grimaced. "The other guys are the hippies, Stark. Or have you forgotten that, too? You look like hell by the way. I've seen more lively looking corpses. Why don't you go back to your lake and spend a little time in the sun?"

The president turned his back and was preparing to leave when Tony lifted his phone.

"Or, I could just step out there to talk to the press as soon as you leave," he said. "I've got police reports and pictures. They'll find those irresistible. Oh, and there's the part where I'd be the one telling them. I'm betting that'll catch their attention, too."

Ross seethed as he pivoted again. His face grew red and his mustache bristled as the former general glared at the hollow, frail looking man in front of him then looked at the offerings on Tony's phone.

"I give you my word as a soldier that I didn't know anything about Jake DeLeer other than he donated a lot of money to the campaign and that he's a terrible golfer," Ross shook his head. "I didn't know what he did in his free time. He came to us with a suggestion for a renewed partnership between Stark Industries and the Defense Department. It was the chance for a deal with a company we've always trusted so we weren't going to say no."

"I know it's been a while since we've seen each other so I'll remind you," Tony replied, "that this is my I don't care face. Agree to the new deal and I'll put my phone away. Walk away and I've got the room to myself… Well, me and all this."

He gestured to his phone again. Rhodes muttered quietly to him not to pursue this plan, that he wasn't up for it, and needed to call it a day. Tony straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly as the president continued to resist.

"You think me suddenly changing the topic of this press conference from weapons to clean air technology isn't going to raise a lot of questions?" Ross scoffed. "That's going to make the press dig for answers, which will eventually turn up your little scandal there. If you think a lot of science jabber is going to tamp out a salacious story, you really have slipped. The media will yawn about your environmental story and get rabid for the sex story. They'll find it, drool over it for weeks, and hang it around my neck even though I had no idea about it. I change direction now and go out there at all… My political career is over."

Rhodes cleared his throat as he shook his head, moving closer to Tony as he noted the weariness in his friend as the battle of wills continued.

"All due respect, sir," Rhodes said to Ross, "if you cancel and say nothing, you've got the same problem. The reason you were here is gone. You need get ahead of the issue not waste time playing catch up."

Tony nodded his agreement.

"You're right that straight up science talk won't seduce that room, but discussing a $20 billion investment in the nation won't get a yawn," he said. "Seriously, when's the last time blue collar America embraced the green lobby? You can make that happen. I'm talking tens of thousands of manufacturing jobs being created while reducing the nation's carbon footprint and making us less reliant on fossil fuels. Environmental activists, nature conservationists, factory workers, and unions are going to get tattoos of your face for saving their planet and their families' livelihoods. It's a story that keeps giving for weeks at the start and will get even more mileage the more the project grows and advances. You'll ride this into re-election. A decade from now, the Ross Global Initiative is still going to be blazing trails. You'll set the standard for planetary environmental defense and responsible economic development for the rest of the world to follow."

He could see the man tallying the votes the plan might get him while chiseling his place in history. A minor sex scandal involving an American businessman with ties to Ross's Defense Department would shout in the news cycle for a few days. The loss of a coveted defense contract might cost him some reelection campaign contributions from military lobbyists, but a green initiative would throw the all-important swing votes into his column the following year. It might get the blue collar workers excited if plants began manufacturing green engines in US factories. However, Ross wasn't new to politics. He wasn't about to just take the first thing handed to him. He flattened his mouth. He was too familiar with Stark to think the best offer was the first one.

"In the long run, probably this pans out," he stalled. "But there's no guarantee. A tree-hugger story is not enough to get the press salivating sufficiently today to ignore that we apparently lost a huge weapons contract."

"True," Tony sighed, "which is why you'll have to give them something bigger to keep them interested in the viability of the environmental story."

"What do you propose?" Ross growled.

"Announce to the world that I'm here," Tony answered.

Rhodes quickly shook his head and objected. Peter stood by looking confused while swiveling his head between the two sides like he was watching a tennis match. Ross blanched. He knew the lengths that had been taken to keep Tony's existence a secret. He knew the possibility for scandal if that was ever revealed, yet history had shown that most of the public would always forgive Tony any transgression. However, the fallout from the questions regarding the cover up needed to be considered.

"Doing this today, without a plan and a story lined up, will just lead to more questions," Ross asserted. "It'll start rumors and implicate me in a scandal that you've been around all this time."

Tony smirked.

"Tad," he said, clapping him on the arm, "you are involved in keeping the secret of me being alive. That's not a rumor. That's a fact."

"Well, your facts aside, my moral compass isn't liking where this could go," the president said.

"You're a politician so your moral compass is more of a roulette wheel," Tony offered. "But that also means you're a gamer. So let me sweeten the pot. Do this now with me, or watch me announce myself as you fly back to DC after canceling with the press. When you leave, I'll just call them all back and tell them everything on my mind. Trust me: It's been a bad few days. I've got a lot I might say."

Rhodes sighed heavily and muttered that this was precisely the kind of moment he feared and had wanted to avoid with his friend. If Pepper wasn't recovering from giving birth (and worrying about the health of the new baby), Rhodes knew he would be on the phone with her that instant, hoping that her all-powerful "No" might take her husband off course. As it was, Rhodes was alone and his only back up was Peter, who was simply nodding along with whatever Tony said.

"So, what's it going to be?" Tony persisted. "Time's running short. I've got other places to be. I'm walking out there with or without you in like 12 seconds."

Tony pointed toward the lobby where the murmur of many voices could be heard. Rhodes stepped in front of his friend, making the Secret Service jump slightly. Peter tried to assist and wedge himself in front of Tony, but his mentor scoffed and nudged him backward while shaking his head and declining the human shield.

"Tony, a public appearance is definitely not on the agenda," Rhodes warned. "Pepper sent me with you to stop you from doing something exactly like this. Look, you're exhausted. You're still recovering, and you're upset about other things. Now, everyone upstairs who saw you is going to talk, but you need a better strategy for a live appearance in front of cameras and reporters than: _Hey, look at me!_"

"I know," Tony replied as he gestured to the president. "He'll say something that sounds official and boring in a politically dignified way—whatever that might be."

"Tony, you need to leave with me now and be with your family," Rhodes objected. "You got a message when you were in the elevator. I don't know what it was, but it got you rattled. Don't do this. Not now. Take a breath and come with me."

"I would, but right now we're doing this," Tony winked then nodded at Ross who huffed, threw up his hands then told Tony to stay where he was until he was called.

"This is a bad idea," Rhodes muttered as he scrubbed a hand over his face then put his hand under Tony's arm for fear the man's adrenaline would run out and leave him sprawling on the floor.

**oOoOo**


	42. Chapter 42

**oOoOo**

Flashes fired. The motor drive of 100 cameras hummed and echoed in the soaring lobby of Stark Tower. President Thaddeus Ross stepped into the glare after the Mayor of New York City (present just to give the introduction and earn some political capital since he was not involved in the topic of the conference) finished extolling the virtues of the war hero now installed in the Oval Office. Ross basked in attention for several moments, smiling and waving until he had the words he needed to say solidified in his mind.

It took a few seconds to wrangle them as his temper was steamed and would have preferred wrapping his hands around Tony Stark's neck and squeezing until his head popped off his shoulders. Stark had that effect on him sometimes, but Ross would never forget that he was the one who came to the down-and-out general on behalf of SHIELD and talked him into joining the organization following his initial failure to contain a mutant offspring of the defunct super soldier program. Tony could have been much more arrogant (god knew he certainly had it in him) and made Ross feel smaller, more defeated, and like he had to grovel.

But he didn't.

Tony's appearance in that dive bar to offer Ross the ticket back to being successful and useful (and on the track for where he was that day: the leader of the free world) was as more than an errand boy for Nick Fury. It was the nudge Ross needed. Tony, for all of his hedonistic past, understood the dangers in the world. He understood wielding power. If he placed trust in SHIELD enough to show Ross to their door, that was the only reference the struggling general needed.

And now he was the President of the United States, who was about to wing it on disclosing one of the greatest secrets kept from the public in more than a generation. He sighed, nodded, and smiled as he held up his hands to quiet the rumble in the room.

"Good morning," Ross began. "I'm going to start with something uncharacteristic of a politician: an apology. You were all summoned here with a cover story. That was for the sake of some fairly extreme security. I know you were expecting to hear the details of renewed ties between Stark Industries and the US Defense Department. Well, that's not quite true. There is a new partnership on the drawing board between us, but it will have more to do with the Energy Department, the Environmental Protection Agency, and US manufacturing. The military will someday benefit from this partnership, but it will not be in the realm of weapons. As is well-documented, Stark Industries shut down its weapon's division more than a decade ago and found even greater success in clean energy and various other forms of research and innovation."

He paused for effect, noting that the expressions on the reporters' faces was a clear mixture of confusion and disappointment. Ross smiled. He was glad they had a taste of what it was like to deal with a head-case like Tony.

"I believe the innovations yet to come from this new partnership will serve as a catalyst for growing the green economy and will serve both US workers and the world at-large by creating stronger economies and a cleaner environment," the president continued. As he saw their interest waning, he moved quickly to the point that would send them into a frenzy (and probably send the stock market soaring within minutes, making him wish he'd called his broker before stepping in front of cameras). "My confidence in managing both of those goals is extremely high because today I am here to announce the return of a vital member of Stark Industries' development team, their leader in fact, who is known to many and missed by so many more. When the universe's greatest heroes faced-off with Thanos last fall, utter chaos reigned. In the fall out of that colossal victory, there were unfortunate casualties. One name encapsulated the sacrifice so many faced. Tony Stark was gravely wounded in that battle and carried from the field with no hope of survival."

Ross paused as cameras flashed and a murmur began growing.

"Media-fueled reports of his death were instantaneously broadcast around the world, followed by an immense wave of grief felt across the globe," he recalled. "For security reasons, that inaccurate detail regarding his demise was not corrected as it was deemed best that the world focus on what remained and on rebuilding after so many who were believed lost were miraculously returned to us."

The sounds of cameras snapping echoed in the large room. He held up his hands to hold back the chatter of questions that reporters began lobbing at him as the anxious news gatherers were out of their seats and shouting over each other.

"Mr. President!" one voice rose about the others. "Are you saying Tony Stark wasn't killed by Thanos? Are you confirming recent rumors that he was in fact killed as the result of friendly fire?"

Ross grinned. _Friendly fire_, he mused as he shook his head. Considering the number of people who claimed to be Tony's friends and likely wanted to throttle him at any given time (including Rhodes at that moment who was sporting a stony look where the two men and their teenage tagalong waited unseen in the wings), that did seem like a possibility, the president thought.

"You're amply demonstrating how false stories spread so quickly when no one seeks valid information," Ross said. "I can state unequivocally that Tony Stark was not killed by friendly fire. I've heard the reports that Mr. Stark willingly gave up his life, essentially falling on the proverbial grenade, during the battle. I can confirm that he did in fact use Thanos's weapon against him, which resulted in the alien invader's death. I can also confirm that using that weapon caused massive internal trauma to Mr. Stark. So severe were his wounds that his death was considered imminent; therefore, premature reports were considered to be a foregone conclusion to nearly every medical specialist. In fact, Mr. Stark was clinically dead at one point. But here's the thing about strong hearts when coupled with stubborn minds: Sometimes, they don't want to give up entirely so they start beating spontaneously when there's no logical reason to expect that to happen."

Ross continued on in the mildly folksy way that had earned him the votes supporters of both parties previously. He could keep many conservatives reasonably mollified and some liberals from tearing out their hair. The president spun a tale of Tony remaining in a precarious state for a considerable period. He indicated the reasons for keeping his initial survival secret were for the benefit of the Stark family.

"The public at-large was left with the impression he had already passed on because it was believed he would succumb eventually," Ross shrugged. "However, those of us who know him well can attest to the fact that Tony Stark frequently didn't do what the world expected him to do. He liked to make up his own rules."

The warble in the room grew louder as Ross warmed to the spotlight. Flashes lit the lobby like a strobe, and the president could feel the eyes on the nation (and the world) upon him like never before as he grinned.

"His refusal to bow to the inevitable is why I am here," he continued. "My fellow Americans and our many friends abroad, I am gratified to tell you that after months of extensive recuperation following many months of radical and intensive treatment, Tony Stark is in fact alive."

Waves of flashes went off and questions were pelted at him. Ross held up his hands, savoring the moment as it would be over soon and the cameras would have only one person in focus (and it wouldn't be him).

"More than that," Ross said with a touch of showmanship, "he is finally well enough to be out of his seclusion and is here with us today. So, please join me in welcoming back one of this great country's national treasures: Mr. Anthony Edward Stark. Tony?"

Ross looked toward the hallway and gestured for Tony to step into the glare of the lights and the cameras. Tony leaned toward his friend and whispered he'd give Ross a 5 out of 10 on the intro because he found it needlessly long-winded and drawn out. Rhodes merely shook his head but noted his friend unconsciously grip his left wrist and squeeze it. Recognizing it as a sign of an anxiety spike, Rhodes stepped up and placed himself at Tony's left side, taking his arm as what little color there was began draining from Tony's face. As Rhodes situated himself protectively beside his friend, the memory of walking him off the plane following their flight home from Afghanistan rose in his mind.

"You aren't ready for this, man," Rhodes noted.

"Story of my life, but I've been through worse," Tony smiled.

"Doesn't mean you have to keep pushing that envelope," Rhodes counseled then asked anxiously: "You gonna crash?"

"If I do," Tony remarked with a weak smile, "I trust you or the kid to catch me."

He released his grip on his wrist and placed his right hand on Peter's shoulder as the three of them stepped to the center of the conference's focus. Ross, along with members of the press, offered applause to go with the shocked gasps and strangled cheers of surprise that filled the lobby. Rhodes kept a steely look on his friend (and a supporting hand under his elbow, nodding to Peter to do the same) while anxiously eyeing the crowd for trouble. Rhodes felt his pocket vibrating letting him know Sam, Cap, or perhaps even Pepper were watching and not happy with what they were seeing. Rather than answer it, Rhodes stuck close to his friend as questions flew at Tony like a hail of bullets from a machine gun.

"Photos only," Ross commanded into the microphones littering the podium. "Tony won't be taking any questions."

The president nudged his way in front of Peter and briefly stood beside Tony as flashes blinded them. Ross then stepped back, and Tony managed a wave. He looked a lot like a man who had been shot, electrocuted, thrown off a building, and nearly bled to death recently. No news organization was going to question if he'd been bedridden and at death's door for months. Peter cut his eyes to the side and saw precisely what the cameras did: fragility.

"Mr. Stark, are you done now?" Peter asked warily. "I think Colonel Rhodes is right. We should probably leave. You've done enough for today, sir."

"You look terrified, Peter," Tony noted, who blanched in the rapid camera flashes. "If you're gonna throw up, don't do it on me."

"No, sir," he vowed. "It's just that… I think this is intense, and I haven't been through half of what you have lately."

"You get used to it," Tony shrugged as the kid's brow furrowed with worry as Peter stepped a bit closer in a protective stance.

Ross was ready to hustle them away when Tony (predictably) stepped toward the microphones. Reporters began shouting his name frenetically. A smirk drew on the corners of Tony's mouth seeing the panic in Ross's eyes. To push the moment just a bit further, Tony held up one hand to seek silence and received it. A hush instantly fell over the crowd allowing him to point at a reporter to ask his question.

"Where have you been?" the question rose from the sea of reporters.

"About 30 minutes ago, I was upstairs with the Board of Directors, letting them know I'm alive—they were more shocked than all of you, I think," Tony replied. "Before that, I was out of the country receiving some radical and experimental medical treatments. Word of advice: Be careful when going up against megalomaniacs hell-bent on universal domination. It takes a while to get the color back in your cheeks afterward."

The crowd laughed. The comment even got a chuckle from Rhodes, who muttered the word 'slick' in regard to his friend's artful way of telling the truth without actually going into any details about how he'd spent the majority of his time off the radar.

"How does it feel to be, well, a free man again?" a reporter shouted.

Ross quickly moved forward to strike further questions, but Tony leaned forward masterfully controlling the scene.

"Well, I've always been free," he said. "I point you to the U.S. Constitution as a source document. Next?"

"You're finally well enough to be in public again," a reporter said. "Was the long recovery difficult for you? Can you compare it to your previous apparent demises?"

"My previous apparent….?" Tony sighed then tilted his head. "Yeah, you guys have put me in the grave before my time more than once, haven't you? I've gotta say, that's a little insulting. How about this for the future: When I do officially die, I'll hold a press conference and tell you all myself that I died. That way there won't be any doubt."

Even Peter, who was worried and found no humor in any joke involving his mentor's death, laughed. It came out as a nervous chuckle as he watched Rhodes maintain his firm hold on Tony's arm. His fellow Avenger then nodded for the teen to continue to do the same as a precaution. Peter gave the slightest dip of his chin as an acknowledgment.

"But was this like any previous times…?" the reporter persisted.

"I'm not going to compare my _not-quite-dead-yet_ moments for you," Tony replied. "That would be a little dramatic and grandiose even for me. I mean, what would you want to hear? That on a scale of hostage in a cave to wasting away adrift in the cosmos this time was harder than having my house destroyed by missile while I was in it but not nearly as aggravating as dealing with months of pointless panic bombarding me daily in the news about the silicon snake oil of the alleged Y2K bug nearly 25 years ago?" The remark drew more chuckles in the crowd. "Actually, that's a fairly accurate. Let's go with that as my answer. Who's next? You, there, in the Sponge Bob-yellow shirt."

The reporter blushed and began by echoing past events that led the world to believe Tony had died. The questions that followed were: How extensive were his wounds this time, what were they specifically, and how had he recovered from something that left the world believing he had died on the battlefield?

"Okay, you asked too many question so I'm not calling on you ever again," Tony chided. "Look, I'm not a medical doctor, and frankly I've had enough of medicine, needles, and pain so I don't really want to go into graphic detail for you. Suffice to say a devoted team in here in the U.S. worked in conjunction with some brilliant folks in Wakanda to get yours truly up and functioning again nearly good as new. Together, those two teams devised a radical treatment that saved me from what is best described as a severe degenerative cellular disorder related to the events involving the raging dickhead Titan known as Thanos." He looked from Ross to Rhodes and nodded. "I think that's the official title we've given him, yeah? No? We should. It fits."

Ross glared and gritted his teeth. Rhodes merely shook his head not to encourage his friend while Tony smirked and half shrugged.

"I'm certain," he continued, "there will be additional medical research done on whatever they've learned from all of this; although, considering the unique nature of events that led to the ailment, I'm doubtful the treatment has any other uses. What I know for certain is that I'm not dead, and it feels great."

The line also got a rolling chuckle and encouraged the press to keep going, preventing Ross from ending the Q and A.

"It sounds like it was a serious ailment," someone shouted. "Can you gauge for us how serious it was?"

"Uh, yeah," Tony scoffed. "They initially thought I was dead so you do the math. If you want a timeline, it goes like this: laid out in the battlefield in fatal condition, then shockingly better for a hot minute, followed by suddenly not so good again, and now finally cured."

Another reporter began digging at the timeline, noting it had been reported Tony died in the fall, and there had been months with no correction to that release of information.

"We already covered the part where I never stood up to publicly announce I was dead," Tony reminded the man, effectively stopping the line of questioning. "Beyond that, my wife never came out and said I was dead either. She refused interviews on the subject and offered no comment on the issue to the press. Further, nothing changed here at Stark Industries regarding my controlling interest in the company. My estate was never doled out in accordance with my will. My wife never took steps to claim my shares through right of succession as my widow, yet somehow you all missed that. Now, I'm not telling you how to do your jobs, but if you worked for me, I'd have fired you for negligence and incompetence because all of those things should have been red flags—especially the part where I didn't tell you I was dead. I'm a detail oriented kind of guy. I'd have sent word. So, we're clear on this now, right? The rumor of my death was greatly exaggerated and is kind of on all of you. What lesson have we learned? Do your research, people. It's important."

There was general unease in the crowd that all mainstream news outlets had in fact not picked up on the many little things that ought to have happened following the death of someone with such power in the company. Only the tabloids with their outlandish conspiracy theories had postulated that Tony was not dead, but they did so by claiming he was an immortal alien who had left the planet to go fight tyranny in another solar system.

As Tony watched the press chewing on his answers, he figured there would be small scandal stories that would flare for a couple weeks until something fresh caught their attention. He was just glad Pepper was in the clear. She had done nothing to proclaim she was a widow or take any action she would have in the event of her husband's death. Walking around pregnant for during his absence was also a pretty good alibis that she didn't try to hide her spouse was still alive in Tony's book.

"What were you doing while convalescing?" one reporter asked fortuitously.

Tony grinned.

"I've been with my family and close friends whenever possible," he answered. "As President Ross said, there were very few people who knew of my condition. The seclusion, if you will, was necessary and was instituted with my approval because I'm not the story here. The world literally had four billion people return home after a five-year absence. That was most important. Plus, I'll be honest: I'm a terrible patient. Only my family and close friends are saintly enough to put up with me. I chose not to subject anyone else to me, and you can thank me for that by running this story once and then focusing on other stuff that's infinitely more interesting."

He grinned expertly and noted most of the crowd doing the same, signaling he had won the majority of them over (at least for now). Some outlets would put him and his story in the cross-hairs for a bit. He wasn't worried. He planned to be out of the limelight soon. Whatever they dug up, it was not relevant to his future.

"The world mourned you," a reporter noted. "Do you regret their sorrow on your behalf?"

"I would if they were honestly mourning me," Tony deflected expertly. "But they weren't. They were mourning the terrible tragedy that befell the planet. I was just one convenient symbol of the culmination of the chaos everyone endured. The greater story, and the more important point to focus on, is all the friends and families who were reunited after an amazing team drawn from different backgrounds, different cultures, different countries, and even different planets, stood as one to face down a genocidal maniac. No single person was the hero that day. So, the importance of one person's actions versus the achievement of a global/universal bonding initiative? Not really a contest, is it? So that's all I have to say on that topic other than: Go team."

"What about Captain America?" a voice shouted. "No one has seen Steve Rogers since the battle either."

"That's clearly not true," Tony shook his head as he began trolling for a new question. "I saw Steve recently. He spent time with my family at Easter. Actually, he even made a mission run with a few of them not too long ago from what I was told yesterday. I don't doubt that you haven't seen him, but he's now retired from public appearances. He's more like Captain Stealth these days. He seems to be really good at that so I'll be taking pointers from him starting this afternoon."

Questions flew at Tony about time travel, which he ducked by stated he would only converse about that topic with those who had actually managed it themselves so he could avoid feeling like a professor reviewing lessons with his students for an exam. He was then asked about his future and whether he would remain with the Avengers. Tony's answer was a simple and honest No. He reiterated his plans to follow Cap's lead and retire from the organization while admitting he no longer could weather the punishment that a person sustained in that role due to his illness. He was fit to live a normal life, but he reminded them there was nothing normal or average about being one of the Avengers.

"Are you formally cutting ties with the organization?"

"I think once a part of the gang, always a part of the gang," Tony remarked and looked to Rhodes who nodded. "They can't totally get rid of me since I already know the secret handshake."

"What does that mean?" the question came from the back of the room but was on everyone's mind.

"It means," Tony announced, "I no longer participate in any missions or operations. There are no plans for me to be active with them in anyway. If something happens and the call goes out to suit up, my phone isn't ringing. They've got a deep bench. They don't need me. I retired from the team back in October without them missing a beat."

"Will there be a new Iron Man?"

"A new one?" Tony repeated with a scowl. "I said I'm decommissioned, not replaceable."

Rhodes took that moment to step in and remind everyone that he retained his armor suit. He chided his friend saying there was no reason to over crowd the skies since War Machine remained on duty. Finally, a reporter noted the bewildered looking person standing on Tony's other side and asked who he was and why he was present. Tony tossed a quick grin at Peter before he answered.

"This is Peter Parker," he explained. "I dragged him out here to serve as his get out of detention note at school. Peter's been an intern with Stark Industries' Research and Development Division since he was a sophomore in high school. More recently, he played a vital part in my recovery. My daughter is convinced Peter is a member of the family, and she's not wrong. He's been an invaluable help to me, yet he still managed to maintain a nearly perfect GPA. Unfortunately, his dedication to his internship and my family made him miss some end of year school functions. So be nice and make sure you at least spell his name right in the photo captions. That's Parker with two Q's, one X, and there's a 5 somewhere in the middle."

The crowd chuckled as they made notes and snapped more photos. Peter blushed at the announcement and the chiding. He shook his head while grinning deliriously as he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket, signaling Ned (and possibly other classmates) were watching in amazement.

"Peter!" a reporter shouted. "What role did you perform in Tony's recovery?"

The teen swallowed and stepped up to the microphone looking more scared than he ever did facing a maniac. He cleared his throat and cast a worried look at Tony, who merely nodded at him.

"Uh, I just uh…," he began nervously until an answer popped into his heard. "I do like Mr. Stark encourages me to do. I look into the things I think I can fix and try not to get bogged down in the things I can't."

"Do you consider Tony your mentor?"

Peter smiled instantly and warmly.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded. "I have for a long time. Actually, Mr. Stark doesn't even know this, but I first kind of met him at the Stark Expo back in 2010. I was there the night the Hammer Industries drones went haywire. Mr. Stark saved my life when I came face-to-face with a drone outside the main exhibition hall."

Tony gaped and blinked in surprise as his mind sifted through those distant memories then settled on one: a small child wearing a replica of the Iron Man helmet holding up a small hand in a costume glove as though it contained a repulsor, which drew the attention of the murderous bot.

"The kid in the mask?" Tony asked. "That was you?"

As Peter nodded, Tony squeezed his shoulder and sighed.

"So pretty much for all of my life," Peter continued his response, "anything Mr. Stark needs me to do, I'm happy to do it. He's kind of always been my hero. Then after that night… I'm alive because he saved me. A few years later, I got to know him and now I know his family. He's always been really generous and helpful to me. He taught me so much about self-reliance and responsibility so I'm always happy and eager to do anything I can to help him. Oh, and his daughter draws me these great pictures with a lot of glitter, so that's nice, too."

Tony offered him a smile that made Peter suspect he was going to get his hair ruffled, but the man's fatigue left him conserving his movements. Also, Tony became momentarily distracted when his phone vibrated in his hand and captured his attention. He read the message then his head bowed and sighed heavily. Rhodes noticed the change in his posture and leaned closer as Tony turned the screen toward him. Pepper was indeed catching their show on TV and was ordering it to end. Rhodes muttered that was an undeniable signal for them to leave. Tony nodded then nudged the teen away from the microphones.

"Pete needs to stop talking to all of you so we can get out of here," Tony said. "I've got other people to see who I like more than all of you—namely my wife—which brings me to my last bit of news. I'm ecstatic to announce that late last night, my wife, the utterly exquisite Pepper Potts, gave birth to our son. Now, they are waiting for me so it's time to leave."

"What's your son's name?"

Tony offered an uncomplicated smile. Pepper would want to throttle him for revealing the name so publicly before any of their friends knew it, but Tony figured it would be a pleasant way to walk away from the spotlight.

"His name is James," he replied, nodding first to Rhodes then jostling Peter's shoulder, "Peter Stark."

"For real?" Peter whispered as he blinked.

"Colonel Rhodes," a reporter shouted, "how do you feel about being a namesake?"

He smiled at his friend as he responded: "I'm honored. Tony's been like a brother to me for most of my life at this point. I'm… Wow." He turned to Tony while shaking his head. "You knew that all morning and kept it to yourself while you decided to just needle me and made me grouchy instead?"

Tony shrugged then nodded in response.

"Peter," a reporter shouted, "same question to you: How do you feel about it?"

He took a moment to find his voice as he blinked rapidly and felt his cheeks grow warm.

"Um, wow," he cleared his throat. "Like I just said, Mr. Stark has always been a hero and mentor to me. I hope one day to be as great an influence on his son as Mr. Stark is to me."

"Yeah," Tony cut in, "but Pete won't be doing anything for anyone anytime soon because he's been accepted at MIT for the fall to study chemical engineering. So all of you, leave him alone. He'll have lots of homework. Thank you. We're done."

He had turned away from the microphones when his phone vibrated and a lengthy text from Cap arrived: "_We are at the hospital hoping to pay a visit. I'm having lunch with my granddaughter today as it is her birthday, so I can come back later if the afternoon is preferred for visitors. Clint, Strange, I and others are watching you on TV. Well done. Thank you for retiring me without revealing me. You always make me nervous when you are in front of cameras._"

It was a gracious and dignified pat on the back while still offering a bit of a scolding edge. Tony snapped his fingers and turned back to the podium abruptly.

"One last thing," he said to the bank of microphones and sea of cameras. "Indulge me on behalf of someone else for just a couple more seconds. This is a quick shout out for Shelley Anne Stevens, a brilliant young architect working here in the city: Happy 26th Birthday, Shells. Give my best to your grandpa _Roger_. He was friends with my father a long time ago."

He waved, flashed dual peace signs then walked away from the podium with Peter and Rhodes flanking him. Ross was left to field other questions and act like a press secretary rather than the leader of the free world. Once out of sight, Peter ran his free hand through his hair and puffed a relieved breath out of his cheeks.

"That was…," he gaped. "That was…. Wow! Sir, what was that? You gave your son my name? For real, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, and yet you're still calling me Mr. Stark," Tony shook his head. "Pepper's right. That's weird after everything. Seriously, kid, I've got a first name. Use it."

Peter nodded, making a mental not to try. He then plunged into the other questions bubbling in his mind after the press conference. He chewed his lip for a moment as he, Rhodes, and Tony made their way to the elevator to return to the penthouse and collect Morgan. Tony leaned wearily on the car wall while Rhodes kept a firm hand on his arm to keep him standing.

"Okay, but um," Peter said, "what was it you just said a minute ago about me and MIT?"

Tony cupped his ear and tilted his head and repeated the teen's words.

"'What was you said about me and MIT, _Tony_?'" he emphasized. "Come on, Peter. You're smart. You can do this."

"Right," Peter grinned. "Sorry, sir. I mean, Tony. Okay, that wasn't so bad."

"Meh, needs work," Tony observed.

"But about MIT?" Peter persisted. "You said I'm starting there in the fall. How is that possible? I didn't finish applying so I haven't been accepted. Mr. Stark… I mean, Tony, I didn't even take my final exams so I can't even graduate."

"Minor details," he announced. "I had one of the company's lawyers call your principal this morning. It's all arranged. You'll take the exams you missed tomorrow and the day after, so if you've got to study do it while you sleep tonight. You're graduating on Friday. I'll try to drop by with Morgan to watch—don't tell anyone, we'll hang out in the back. Pepper won't be there. She's got to sit this one out."

Peter nodded vigorously, his head spinning faster than his webs in combat. His heart was racing, and his mouth was dry as he blinked rapidly while taking in everything he heard.

"As for MIT, you'd already done the hard part," Tony shrugged. "You just didn't hit the confirmation button on the system."

"I didn't have the money to pay for it," Peter admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah, I got that," Tony scoffed. "That's why I hacked MIT around midnight and did it for you. Then about 8 this morning while waiting for my son's blood test results, I called the Dean of Admissions. By the way, you've got an uncle named Edward as of this morning and he's kind of an indignant sort. Lucky for you, he got the Dean's Office to admit they had been planning to accept you all along anyway—they've been trying to recruit you all year. Good news: Applications were down this year so they still had open slots in the freshman class. Bad news: They're penalizing you for filing after the deadline so you're not eligible for any grants or scholarships this year."

Peter nodded as his shoulders slumped. Money was always going to be the stumbling block. He understood that Tony had paid for his application, but losing out on the scholarships meant he and Aunt May needed to scramble and get loans to pay the initial tuition fee. Peter hated putting that burden on her.

"Thank you, but you didn't need to do all that," Peter said eventually. "I can't afford to go yet, sir."

"_I can't afford to go yet_…," Tony repeated and leaned slightly like he was hanging on the teen's next word.

Peter nodded and sighed as he blushed.

"I can't afford to go yet, _Tony_," he answered in a dejected voice.

"I'm having déjà vu," Tony remarked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've had this conversation before."

"I can't ask you to pay for my tuition and room and board," Peter muttered. "I won't."

"Fine, then you can be pissed at me for doing it against your wishes all the same," Tony said without concern. "You've got a full scholarship from Stark Industries, Pete. You're an intern with the Research and Development Division. I think saving me from being a hostage slowly bleeding to death internally then nearly plummeting to my death merits covering four years of college. Don't think so? Ask my wife and daughter. They think it's a bargain. By the way, it's one of the perks of your job. All my interns get a full-ride. Just ask all the former recipients."

Peter wrinkled his brow. He was unaware of any such scholarship attached to an internship—particularly one that he didn't precisely hold… except that he did patrol the streets in one of Tony's custom Iron-Spider suits… and he had helped rescue him… and was the first to sound the alarm that he was actually taken. Looked at in that light, he agreed with the assessment that the value of saving Tony Stark was obviously a lot more than the $200,000 price tag on an MIT degree.

"Um, who are the other recipients?" Peter wondered.

"Who?" Tony repeated. "How can you ask that? You know all of them. There's Dum-E, U, Harley and now Peter Parker."

Peter scoffed and smirked.

"Okay, your lab robots didn't go to college," Peter argued.

"Oh, they didn't?" Tony countered. "Rhodey, back me up here."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone. A little tapping resulted in a link that brought up a long ago magazine article showing Tony as a young teen flanked by his two mechanical creations. He flashed the screen at Peter with a gesture to read the caption on the picture. For his part, Rhodes groaned as Peter skimmed is eyes across the words identifying the photo as that of Tony Stark and the robots while stated whimsically all were attending MIT.

"Those were his only friends until I came along," Rhodes offered. "He'll never admit it, but I think eventually they liked me better."

Peter folded his arms and bit his lip not to laugh as the elevator car continued to rise to the top floor. He knew, technically, it would not put a dent in Tony's bank account to pay for his education. However, there was a principal involved in it. Peter vowed he would pay back every cent eventually (but he suspected Tony simply wasn't listening when he said that as his mentor was too fixated on his phone and whatever texts he was again sending and receiving).

"There's also the issue of maybe going to school isn't the right thing for me right now," Peter offered, feeling a bit ignored. "I mean, you're officially retired and so is Captain Rogers. I know you said the Avengers can function just fine without the two of you, but Agent Romanoff is gone, too, and Thor is not around all that much. That leaves them down four Avengers. They might need me more than you realize. I don't know if I can do both MIT and the Avengers."

That snapped Tony's interest in his phone. He looked up instantly and put his heavy, dark, intense stare on Peter.

"Oh, you'll do it—school, I mean," he insisted. "If it means you have to spend every single waking second in a lab, a library, or with your eyes glued to a computer screen, so help me Peter you will graduate. I will be watching your grades as closely as I watch Morgan's."

The teen then eeked out the real worry in his mind.

"But what if I can't manage it?"

"Did I offer failure as an option there?" Tony asked.

"No," Peter shook his head, "but I have other skills that might be needed. I can't just sit back and worry about tests and grades if the world is falling apart and I could help stop it. If I'm needed to do other things then…"

"They still have Rhodey, Banner, Barton, and Sam," Tony asserted with agitation, snagging his friend's renewed attention as Rhodes put his hand on Tony's shoulder to calm him. "Plus, there's the assassin who came in from the cold. Wong's only a phone call away, too."

"Tony, chill," Rhodes counseled as the moment reminded him of verbal volley between Tony and Cap following his friend's return from Titan that resulted in him passing out and needing sedation. "You've got no reserves right now. You're supposed to be resting, but instead you're keyed up from the press conference and whatever you've just read on your phone. Now, calm down before you fall down."

He got a nod in response but not the silence he thought wisest. When he reached this point of no return, Tony usually had no ability to turn off the circuit that connected his mouth to his thoughts.

"Fine," he muttered as he looked with an expression of abject worry and fatigue at the teen. "If everyone I just listed leaves then, maybe, you can sometimes help out… on weekends… once in a while… if it's world ending stuff. Otherwise, school is your priority. Your Aunt May agrees with me by the way, which is probably the only time in your life that will ever happen. Look, I understand feeling an obligation, but there are others to take care of things for a few years. Right now, you are needed in the world of academics more."

Peter wasn't sure that was true. He heard more of his mentor's desire to keep him as far as possible from the danger association with the Avengers posed. However, Peter reasoned that the more he learned while at school, the more he could bring to the Avengers someday. That knowledge could also possibly help keep Tony from ever needing to jump in and help the organization again, thus keeping him with his family and out of harm's way—which was now a goal for Peter.

"Alright," he nodded but swallowed as he felt the weight of Tony's expectation. "Just don't expect a 4.0. It's a tough school."

"It is," Tony agreed then shrugged, "but I graduated at the top of my class when I was just 17."

"Well, you're a genius," Peter mentioned.

"Precisely, so you should listen to me," Tony nodded. "I know what I'm talking about."

Peter nodded, lacking the will to offer a counter argument. As he did, his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket, expecting to see a text from his aunt asking when he was going home (because surely someone had told her about the news conference if she hadn't yet seen it herself). Instead, he saw the incredulous words of his most annoying classmate: Flash.

"_WTF PARKER?! IRNMN ALIVE & U KNOW HIM?!_"

Tony cut his eyes at the teen, who chuckled at the message before stuffing the phone back in his pocket without responding.

"That anything important?" he asked.

Peter shook his head. He couldn't think of anything less important at that moment. The doors to the elevator then slid open to the rooftop. The helipad lay before them with the chopper's rotors already turning. Happy and Morgan were seated in the back. Tony waved to his daughter, who waved eagerly back.

"Um," Peter began hesitantly as one other issue from the press conference cropped up in his mind, "there was something else you said. Before, at the end of the press conference, was it really necessary to mention Captain Rogers' granddaughter? I know it was nice to say happy birthday to her, but… um, if he finds out I'm the one who told you about his granddaughter being a big fan of yours, he's going to be mad at me, won't he?"

"Yes," Tony nodded and raised his voice to be heard over the whirling blades as he put his arm around the teen's shoulders and gave him a bracing jostle as they walked toward the aircraft. "Yes, he will. You'll get used to it."

**oOoOo**

In the secluded lobby at the end of the hall on the relatively vacant maternity ward, Cap was sitting down and sporting a pained expression. His ear was pressed to his phone as he had just received an excited call from his granddaughter. It was not an unexpected call as he had just watched his former teammate wish her a Happy Birthday on national television. Cap's temples throbbed as he did his best to keep his voice flat and void of all tension and frustration he felt.

"Yes, Shelley Anne," he said for the fourth time. "I said I did see it… Yes, it was on all the TV channels for a few minutes… I heard and saw… Tony Stark is alive… It is quite miraculous… Sweetheart, I don't know that it's a reason to cry… I can hear you just fine, dear, there's no reason to shout like you just won an Olympic medal… Yes, I heard him wish you happy birthday…. It was very nice of him… Well, yes, as it turns out, I do know him… I didn't mention it to you for a lot of very good reasons that I won't go into right now… Yes, both Grandma Peggy and I knew Tony's father… Shelley Anne, please, there's no need to cry, sweetheart…. I'm glad it made your day… Okay, it made your decade then, but you really should calm down. It was just a simple birthday greeting… I have a card for you and I'm taking you to lunch today, remember?... Shelley Anne, please call him Mr. Stark, not Tony. It's more proper since you don't actually know him… I don't know if I can introduce you… He's a very busy man with a new baby to help take care of so… Yes, I supposed he is amazing, in his own way."

Bucky pressed his hand to his face as he watched his old friend squirm and sigh as he listened to his granddaughter's elation. When he finally disconnected, Cap looked like he'd just run a marathon. Bucky cleared his throat.

"You okay, Steve?" Bucky smirked.

"I'm not a violent man by nature," he said through a tightened jaw. "But Tony makes me question that choice every now and then. I know Shelley Anne thinks it was a precious gift, but he did that in part to annoy me."

"You sound more like you want to ground him than hurt him," Bucky noted. "I can see it aggravated you, but you've gotta see that it's a little funny. With reporters sniffing around about what happened to Captain America, it's kind of a gift if you want to give your family a little heads up in case someone ever does figure it out."

Cap huffed, not unkindly, as he stood up and gaze at his old friend with wonder-filled eyes.

"Of all the things I thought I'd hear today, you defending Tony to me was not among them," he said.

"I guess all your righteousness rubbed off a little bit," Bucky winked.

They remained in the small waiting area after Cap received a text from Rhodes that he and Tony were arriving at the hospital any minute. Thor then stepped off the elevator, looking pleased after having finally received an update on everyone named Stark who was previously in need of medical help. He was on the verge of asking where to find the family when the elevator from the roof slid open and Happy, Morgan, Peter, Rhodes, and Tony stepped out. At Tony's instruction, Peter and Happy escorted Morgan to her mother's room where Nebula still stood sentry talking to a dark-skinned man. Morgan, upon seeing her blue friend, shouted her name and skipped joyously toward her with Peter and Happy rushing to catch up. As she did that, Tony's eyes fell on the other visitors.

"I take it you'll need a little family time?" Cap asked, seeing the little girl enter her mother's room. "We'll come back later to see everyone."

"Sure," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Cap. "Pepper would love to see you. She and James are going to be here for a couple days probably. He's still… being assessed."

"He comes from a family of fighters," Cap nodded and offered him a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Have faith in that. I know I do."

Tony shifted his eyes to look at the man's companion. Cap had strategically not mentioned that Bucky was with him in his text message, but Tony couldn't find it in himself to see any fault in that even though it was surely calculated. From what Rhodes told him, Bucky had played a vital role in capturing the man who orchestrated Tony's kidnapping. He looked at the former assassin and nodded once.

"Stark," Bucky cagily returned the gestures.

"Barnes," he swallowed as he replied cautiously.

"Thor," the God of Thunder added, as he stepped out of the corner and patting both men on the shoulders.

"You just said your own name," Bucky remarked with a puzzled expression.

"Of course," Thor grinned. "It was the only one left."

"Can't argue with the basic logic," Tony shrugged as the Asgardian abruptly loosed an exaltation of relief then enveloped him in a crushing hug.

"My fellow warrior," Thor thundered. "I am gratified to see you alive and not bleeding profusely."

Tony groaned as he found himself crushed in an exuberant embrace.

"Yeah, but you might be causing it internally," he winced. "You missed a memo, big guy. Internal injuries were on the agenda a couple days ago. Okay, release the human. Thank you."

He squirmed free but found his eyes drawn again to Bucky, who stood still beside Cap while wearing a stony and contrite expression. He looked a bit like a child awaiting a scolding. Tony exhaled.

"So," he began as he addressed Bucky, "Rhodey told me you… helped deal with the psycho in spandex."

Bucky nodded and stated he was just lending a hand where he could. He did not want or expect thanks.

"I know I'm not your favorite person," Bucky added. "I'm only here now because I drove Steve down from the base. I'm not here as a visitor. I'm a chauffeur. That's all."

Tony nodded, finding it odd to think about a chauffeur as not being someone important or vital in his family. Between Edwin Jarvis and Happy Hogan, chauffeurs had been nearly half of Tony's family most of his life. He shook his head then stepped closer to face the man. Rhodes grew tense and shifted slightly, placing himself between the two men. He doubted Bucky would start anything as he seemed to bear no ill-will toward Tony, but (having heard the history between the two men from Cap several weeks earlier) Rhodes couldn't be sure Tony (in his current exhausted yet agitated state) wouldn't stir up some.

"Tony, let's get going," Rhodes advised his friend calmly. "Pepper's waiting for you."

"Actually," Tony began, "I have a question for Barnes."

Cap instantly cocked his head to the side upon hearing Tony refer to his friend by his actual surname a second time rather than offering one of Tony's more typical, sharply-crafted, euphemistic monikers.

"Tony, just be cool," Rhodes counseled. "Now's not the time."

Cap held up his hand to Rhodes in a pacifying way, but he also placed his hand on Bucky's arm cautiously (just in case).

"I've got to know this," Tony persisted.

Rhodes shook his head but stopped his attempts at intervention. They were just as likely to exacerbate the situation as diffuse it. However, he did ensure he was as essentially between the two men. He placed his palm flat on Tony's chest should he need encouragement to step backward quickly.

"I can guess what you want to say, but all I can tell you is that I couldn't control what I did back then," Bucky confessed calmly. "Hydra made me kill a lot of people. I don't forgive myself for any of it. Howard was a friend back in the day. He helped Steve rescue me from the Nazis, and he made us some effective weapons that got us out of tight spots that helped us win in battles. Despite what happened and what you believe, I still consider him a friend. I'd never have hurt him or your mother if I'd had any choice at all. Look, I know words don't mean much, but all I can do is say I'm sorry."

Tony flipped his hand impatiently, waving off the words and dismissing them.

"Right, you said that," he shook his head. "You also said you remember _everything_ you did during those years. You're sure you remember all of it?"

"Yeah," Bucky swallowed.

"So I gotta know," Tony remarked as he scrunched his brow inquiringly with curiosity but no animosity or judgement. "JFK in Dallas? That wasn't you, was it?"

Rhodes groaned first and shook his head. He then shoved his friend gently down the hallway. Cap and Bucky remained in place for a beat while wearing very different expressions. Cap scrubbed an age-spotted hand over his face as he shook his head. Bucky's expression went from blank and blinking to amused and smirking as Tony walked backward down the hallway at Rhodes' urging while keeping his eyes on Bucky awaiting an answer.

Bucky grinned while Cap sported a horrified and disappointed (yet not very shocked) gape. Tony eventually relented to Rhodes's efforts to quicken their steps. As he turned his back on the former soldiers, he jerked his thumb backward toward Bucky.

"Find out where he was the night Lincoln went to the theater, too," Tony said as Rhodes gave him a slightly harder nudge to keep moving.

Bucky heard the inquiry and heard the glint of mischief in the man's voice. It was a sound he knew from ages earlier when he first got to know Howard's tricky and slippery yet irreverent '_what the hell_ _why not_' attitude. The former assassin grinned as he called out a response that he knew in his bones would suffice to cement tentative olive branch just offered to him.

"No on Dallas," he said. "But I did watch Mussolini's hanging from the crowd."

Tony bobbed his head then offered a thumbs up as he continued walking. Thor and Cap lingered on either side of Bucky. The Asgardian wore a puzzled expression as he looked from Tony's departing back to the men remaining behind.

"I almost can't believe that he just said that," Cap sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm surprised, but just when I think he's made some progress…"

As the older man shook his head, Thor patted his shoulder consolingly.

"Well, I think he's going to learn something shortly," the Asgardian offered in a conspiratorial voice. "Leaving his wife for any reason so soon after she gave birth was unwise. I learned much about women of this planet from Jane. They have expectations that their mate be present during and after labor. Our mechanically inclined friend will be sleeping on a couch in the near future. Mark my words. Now, tell me, what was that discussion regarding a theater all about?"

Bucky grinned.

"I think it's our way of signing a peace treaty," he said appreciatively.

"It's all fairly complicated," Cap added awkwardly, not wanting to get into the details. "Bucky and I knew Tony's father many years ago."

"Yeah," Bucky offered. "And Tony's a bit like him. Howard was more relaxed, but he was a Class-A lunatic, too."

"So the line between lunatic and genius is a little thin in all generations," Thor nodded. "That does explain a great deal for me. I've always found Stark to be rather incomprehensible, not unlike my brother. It's very easy to want to rip him limb from limb now and again, but then he does something astounding and I want to hit myself with my own hammer for even contemplating harming him."

Cap nodded, understanding the sentiment even if he didn't fully share it. He thought Tony could use a mute button and would have been served well by being grounded more often in his childhood, but actually harming him wasn't usually his first inclination. The one time the two of them came to blows, it was over Bucky and the loss of Tony's family. Cap looked at his friend, who gazed wistfully down the hall.

"I don't' think Tony's actually crazy," Bucky remarked. "I agree with Sam. He thinks Tony purposefully loosens his own screws, and I guess I can appreciate it. And, kind of like Sam, he might have grown on me. I see similarities between them."

Thor chuckled. Cap shook his head at that observation. He assured Bucky that it was probably wisest not to ever mention that to Sam. Thor agreed.

"Proud men of opposite temperament rarely like to hear such comparisons," the Asgardian advised.

"Opposites?" Bucky questioned. "Nah. They both think they're a delight to know and don't care who they rankle, but in the end, even their pigheaded stubbornness comes from a good place even if it's pain in the ass to deal with it."

Cap considered the words and nodded, seeing some logic in them, but he was still not sold on the connections between the former team members.

"You might still want to keep that to yourself," he counseled. "People have very strong feelings about Tony one way or another. There never seems to be any room for compromise."

"My brother Loki invites similar reactions," Thor reported. "It never occurred to me before, but it might be a great adventure to team up the two of them… with the proper supervision of course."

"You volunteering for that oversight duty?" Cap wondered (glad he was entirely too old to ever be considered for it himself).

"No," Thor shook his head as his expression grew stony and serious. "I nominate Stark's wife. He listens to her and obeys frequently. She's also had an interesting effect on Loki. He fears her in some way, yet he seems to want her approval. I am here now because he asked that I bring her and her child a gift."

As he spoke, he removed a medallion from his neck and started to walk down the hall after Tony. Cap smiled and shook his head. Bucky cocked his head to the side.

"What about you?" he asked. "Don't play the diplomat, Steve. Where do you actually stand on Tony?"

He sighed as he considered the remark. Howard Stark had riled him when they first met, but much of that was initially jealousy as his penchant for flirting made Cap mistake him as a rival for Peggy's affection. Once Cap got over that misunderstanding (and learned the actual meaning of fondue), he found Howard to be useful and inventive. The man's son shared that trait but was much more willful. Howard was motivated by his success and driven by ambition. Tony was motivated by finding answers and being right, but he struggled to find something that never seemed to concern (or interest) his father: inner peace. Tony was a good if flawed man who saw the world as his workshop and couldn't help but tinker with any problem that caught his attention. The problem-solver in him was a compulsive fixer, which made him difficult on a team yet also invaluable.

"I like Tony a great deal—even more than I liked Howard, and I liked Howard a lot," Cap admitted. "I care about Tony deeply. No one has ever tested my patience quite the way he has, but there is no denying that without him none of us would be here. He's maddeningly complicated, and I finally was able to understand him by the time we lost him. Losing him is part of what convinced me to go back and have my life with Peggy. So, I'm grateful for Tony, even the moments that make my head throb. Losing him was hard. I wasn't ready for it. Now that he's back among us, it does my heart good. I can honestly say that I prefer the universe when he is a part of it."

**oOoOo**

Tony nodded his thanks to Nebula for her guard duty. She indicated she would be in the vicinity if needed again then departed. Tony then spied another individual standing not far from Pepper's door. T'Challa too appeared to be on guard duty of some sort.

"If you're worried Barton will sell your equipment, don't be," Tony joked. "Fury's the one you've got to watch."

The king shook his head and relented a smile while stating he was merely there to see if there was anything else Tony needed and to fulfill a promise to his sister that he would validate with his own eyes that her patient/project was indeed still alive and progressing.

"You can tell her that she's a success," Tony nodded as he offered his hand.

Rhodes stood beside Tony but remained respectfully quiet as he watched the two men converse.

"I shall remain for another day in case I or (more than likely my sister's skills) are needed," T'Challa said. "I am glad to see you are well and no longer a secret."

"Yeah, we'll see how that goes," Tony remarked. "It seems I owe your country… everything."

"No more than we owe you," T'Challa replied. "Pardon my arrival here when you are wishing to spend time with your family. I do not want to detain you, but I would like to finally thank you for all that you did previously."

Tony shook his head, not feeling comfortable with that kind of praise. He did recall making time travel work, remembered jumping back all the way to Camp Lehigh, but after that was a large void in his memory. He knew he would never actually recall the deed that resulted in the man's gratitude, and he wasn't certain he ever wanted to. Instead, he expressed his appreciation for T'Challa's family. He did ask if the man ever considered cloning his sister to make the world a better place.

"I'm a big fan of her work," Tony said. "The world could use like 20 of her."

"I think one of her is more than enough," the ruler of Wakanda replied with a proud smile. "To be clear, I've thought that since she was three."

"She turn your toys into a nuclear reactor?"

"She got her hands on one of my toys—my Morabaraba board," the king reported. "She glued the playing pieces to it. My father told me to think of it as a lesson."

"Don't leave your stuff where your little sister can mess with it?" Tony guessed.

Being an only child, he'd never had anyone around to touch his stuff. He was about to step into the strange new world of parenting two children, so he was open to hearing any lessons those with siblings could offer.

"Yes, that and to never underestimate anyone based on their age, gender, or size," T'Challa grinned. "The pattern she used when gluing the game pieces remains one of the most brilliant strategies to win a match that I have ever seen. Never tell her I said that. All I will acknowledge to her is that she ruined my toy."

Tony offered his solemn vow of silence, then noted T'Challa peering down the hallway. At the end, one of his former team members remained waiting for the elevator. Bucky stood beside Cap and nodded to the king in a familiar fashion.

"You have an interesting assortment of well-wishers," T'Challa observed.

"You mean Barnes and Noble?" Tony wondered. "You were in Siberia. You know about… Well, you heard."

"I did, and I see something different in your eyes today," T'Challa noted. "Our families can be both our greatest comfort and our greatest source of sorrow. I commend you for leaving at least some of the past where it belongs."

Tony nodded, not sure he deserved the compliment. The sight of Bucky had brought something beyond sarcasm or rage to his mind—he just wasn't sure what it was nor how long it would remain. As he turned to T'Challa, who had harbored the former assassin for several years in his kingdom, Rhodes's earlier comment about rewiring Tony's head also came to mind.

"Your people have already done more for me than I can ever repay," Tony began, "so it's ungrateful of me to do this, but I'd like to ask for another favor, I guess."

The request caught Rhodes by surprise as much as T'Challa; however, the king was happy to oblige.

"As I said, my own debt to you can never be repaid," he said. "You may ask anything of me. If it is mine to give, you shall have it."

"I need an expert," Tony swallowed as he looked to Bucky and then away again. "Your people found a way to deprogram Barnes and put his head back in order."

"That was not done with technology," T'Challa shook his head. "Not all healing is rooted in chemistry or anatomy."

"Yeah, you used shrinks just like we would here," Tony agreed. "Your results are… impressive."

"The hardest part of that work was done by Sergeant Barnes himself," he said.

"Think your head doctors could tackle something… someone just as psychologically messy but 10 times more stubborn and aggravating?" Tony wondered.

T'Challa looked at the man before him—a hero to many and a harried accident waiting to happen in his own mind. The ruler paused for an extended moment as he considered what was being asked. He then nodded and said he knew someone who might be able to help. He promised he would speak to the doctor, a woman and colleague from his days at school, who was educated at Cambridge before returning to Wakanda. He promised to see if she was willing to speak with Tony, who thanked T'Challa before entering his wife's room.

Rhodes remained in place stunned and blinking.

"Okay, that was… wow," he remarked quietly.

"You are surprised your friend carries burdens?" the king asked doubtfully.

"No, I'm shocked he admitted it," Rhodes replied. "He usually just ignores it and muddles through."

"It seems to me he realizes that he does not," T'Challa assessed. "I suspect you, as his friend, know that as well."

Rhodes nodded and asked if the ruler's colleague was exceptionally skilled at dealing with someone entirely too good at fooling the world at-large that everything was fine. T'Challa nodded sagely.

"As with Sergeant Barnes, the hardest work will not be for the doctor but for your friend," the king predicted. "I believe the doctor I know can show him a path through the fear and the pain he carries."

"Tony wasn't trained for any of this—all the things he's done and that we've faced," Rhodes confessed. "He's an engineer. He makes things. He can fix pretty much anything that's broken but himself. Tony's always figured out how to jerry rig whatever's going on in his head just enough to get around the… problems. I've known for years it tears him up inside, but he always seemed to bounce back. I mean, I knew that a lot of that was an act and how hard it is on him sometimes, but…"

"But you believe in your friend and his inner strength," T'Challa nodded. "Your faith in him, like that of his wife, kept him going. That is obvious even to someone like me who has not been with you through the years. Those of us trained to fight and to protect know there are wounds that show no mark. It is a wise man who recognizes them in himself. It takes an even stronger one to admit he suffers from them."

Rhodes nodded but felt the need to defend his friend.

"Tony's always been a little crazy, and that's a good thing," he warned. "Your doctor can't take that away from him. That's his spark, his creativity… his genius. It's part of what gives him a purpose. He just needs to drop the weight he hauls on his shoulders. He needs to learn how to put yesterday down and walk away from it."

"No," T'Challa disagreed. "That is not his trouble nor the lesson he must learn. As my father taught me, we carry yesterday with us so that we appreciate the gravity of today and the gift of tomorrow. It is not the burdens upon you but how you carry them that will break you. Your friend is an engineer. He needs to create balance in his mind the way he creates it in his many miraculous machines. I believe my friend can help him learn that lesson."

"My worry is what happens if he can't," Rhodes sighed.

Tony was in tatters emotionally that day from what he had been through physically and the desperate worry he was fighting over the health of his newborn son. If James Peter Stark did not make it or suffered from any debilitation that Tony felt was his fault (and he'd find a way to think it was no matter what), Rhodes feared it would be the final straw that would push his friend to a desperate and deadly action. As far as he could see that morning, Tony had been treading water in the swirling flood of problems that had surrounded him since his unexpected return. Rhodes feared, after the seesaw emotions he'd already witnessed that morning, that it wouldn't take much for Tony to simply go under and never rise.

**oOoOo**


	43. Chapter 43

**oOoOo**

_One Year Later…_

Pepper sat quietly watching the last minutes of a recent, two-hour television piece on her husband. Tony had not seen it, and she knew he never would. It had originally aired two weeks prior, but she had not been able to watch it until that afternoon. She sat quietly in the house and dabbed at her eyes as the final segment, which included the recording of the last public speech Tony had given. What was odd about that speech was how sedate his performance was. It took place in front of a room of academics in a country far from his home the December after he publicly made his return.

The speech had not gone according to plan.

At least, it had not followed the plan Pepper had expected. Although, in retrospect, she realized she should have known something was off from the start. Tony brought her breakfast/room service in bed that morning (surprising her with a meal had always been a sign something big and troublesome was on his mind). He was also oddly reserved and quiet throughout that day. At the time, she chalked it up to the difficult memories that his impending speech was undoubtedly stirring up. She just hadn't realized those memories were the catalyst to what ended up essentially being Tony Stark's farewell message to the world at-large. In retrospect, she knew there was nothing for her to have done. She knew from two decades of experience that stopping Tony's course of action once he'd made up his mind was quite literally impossible.

Months later, as she watched the speech again while sitting alone in the house, she felt every pulse of pride, prick of fear, clench of worry, and ounce love for him that she held on the night. She clasped her hands tightly watching it again, feeling the same jitters she had that night as he came into the camera's view on that stage.

He wore formal attire, like the rest of the dignified gathering in the Stockholm Concert Hall. Intelligentsia from around the world were seated on the stage as he had been. The tiered balconies were packed with friends, dignitaries, and academics from around the world. The mighty pipe organ behind the recipients gleamed in the warm glow of the spotlight. Pepper watched from a balcony seat, noting that her husband looked on edge and troubled while waiting for the presentation of his prize. The agitation continued as evidenced in his tense posture and rigid movements as he walked to the podium following his introduction.

"Your Royal Highnesses, fellow honorees, ladies and gentlemen," Tony began.

He appeared to be something he never was when center-stage at any other event in his life previously: nervous. He looked at the teleprompter that contained the text of his prepared speech—one he knew by heart. It was a well-written and (even more importantly) had Pepper's stamp of approval. He had wrestled with the theme and the words in the weeks since learning he was a co-recipient of the Nobel Prize for Physics—that is after he'd been talked out of declining the award.

It wasn't a new found humbleness that prompted him to initially shy away from the honor. It was something deeper: fear. He didn't want to talk about what he did to get this recognition, but it turned out that reluctance was what eventually became the catalyst for his astounding act that night.

Through luck of the draw, Tony's speech at the ceremony awarding the various coveted prizes was the second of the evening. The first was given by Dr. Hank Pym, his co-recipient. They shared the prize due to Pym's miraculous particles being recognized as a seminal part of Tony's revolutionary equation that solved the riddle of time travel through the ingenuity of his time GPS bracelets and the mind-blowing algorithm that made them functional. Pym gave a traditional speech thanking the prize committee and discussing the value of his invention along with recounting his many years of hard work. His speech was not far different in structure to the one Tony was expected to give; although, it was different in its flow.

However, as Tony gazed at the words in on the teleprompter (and with Pym's speech was still fresh in his mind) he felt a flutter in his chest that prompted him to press a hand to his breastbone. The combination of his reluctance to convention and his desire for rebellion mixed suddenly with his private and personal feelings of terror. He looked out at the distinguished, assembled academics and knew he couldn't say the beautifully crafted and pleasantly polished words in front of him, words that would no doubt be hailed as complimentary and satisfactory by both the scientific community and media.

Tony honestly didn't care about them or their opinions.

He didn't think much of winning of the prize—and he didn't care what anyone thought about that either. His head was too full of the many wrong turns that lay behind him and how each of them had somehow (as some would say even fatefully) led him to that precise moment on stage. Strange's assurance to him about 14,000,604 opportunities for failure and but one chance for success rose freshly in his mind. The idea that he had threaded the cosmic needle and hit the only X on the map that mattered remained a staggering (and at times paralyzing) thought. He had been so insanely close to getting it all wrong… again.

That was the main thought in his head as he stared blindly into the darkened concert hall, feeling the glare of the spotlight and the many eager eyes pointed at him: failure.

If there had been a heart monitor on Tony at that moment, it would have registered a spike in his pulse that was unnatural for such an experienced public speaker. He stepped back from the podium and then instinctively sifted the crowd with his eyes to find Pepper. He settled his frantic eyes on her face to steady his nerves before he finally exhaled then smiled thinly, almost painfully, at her before stepping forward again. As he did, he briefly gripped his left wrist as a slight pinch formed around his eyes.

The small act had Pepper instantly on the edge of her seat with worry.

"I originally planned on doing the proper thing and expressing gratitude for this distinguished prize," Tony began as he improvised and ignored the text scrolling in front of him. "When I started drafting my speech, I looked back to Niels Bohr's words from 1922 when he won. I was struck by his lauding the character of science and intellectual solidarity. Heady, eloquent words, and completely not my experience. A bit of trivia for you all: That realization made me decide to contact the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences _to_ respectfully decline this prize. Before I managed to do that, my wife talked me out of it. She then graciously waded through multiple drafts of the speech that now resides on this teleprompter. So, I'd like to take a moment to apologize to her right now for wasting that time. Sorry, Pep. There's been a last minute change."

As he offered her the hints of an impish grin, Pepper's eyes went wide and she tensed further in her seat. To the rest of the world she appeared serene and composed, but her mouth went dry as she watched her husband let go of his wrist (something she recognized as a telltale sign of anxiety hitting him while he struggled to cope with whatever he feared at that moment). The cause of the attack baffled her because Tony never had stage fright. On the contrary, he always thrived in front of audiences. His crippling panic attacks had always happened when he was alone. Pepper remained perfectly still in her seat, but her own heart began to speed up as she willed herself to remain seated rather than rush to get to him.

"I was disinclined to accept this prize for what the press has unfortunately dubbed the _Stark Quantum Jump Protocol_," Tony continued in his off-script delivery. "Those in the know, many in this room in fact, will agree that moniker is a complete disservice to Rydberg Atoms, atomic beams, and don't even get me started how it devalues the full spectrum of Coulombic potential."

Several robust laughs sounded, earning a bashful shake of the head from Tony despite the turmoil radiating from his eyes.

"This is the only black tie event in the world where that joke lands," he offered dryly. "Anyway, after I was informed of the Academy's decision to award me this year's prize for physics, I didn't think (and I remain convinced) that this discovery, that my quantum locational positioning equation making accurate time travel possible, is something the world needs to know anything about nor is it anything the world needs to understand or repeat. It certainly is nothing to laud with accolades and awards. I see it as merely a nod-worthy accomplishment of the sultry and dangerous tango between the elegance of math and power of science. I maintain that my tools and tricks for quantum spelunking should be mothballed until whatever comes the day after eternity. I say this and I believe this because I am an engineer and a scientist. Reliving the past is not what I'm supposed to do. I hold that it isn't what any of us are supposed to do absent universe-ending paradoxes of do or die levels—and I think we can agree we aren't in favor of those ever happening again."

He gripped the sides of the lectern tightly to lessen the shaking in his hands as his mind spun out more words than the neuropathways to his mouth could handle.

"We are here today to live in this moment, learn from yesterday, but strive for tomorrow," Tony continued. "That's the key, the whole point of why we exist. The future is where our eyes always should point. Be cognizant of the past? Yes. Honor it? When it's deserving. Understand it? Definitely. Learn from it? Absolutely. Overcome it? Certainly. But relive it? Never, if at all possible. But you see, that's been an issue for me: getting over the past. I've tried ignoring it, vectoring around it, attempting to make amends for it, and plotting to avoid the problems of it. What I've ended up doing more than a few times is creating havoc in the present because fear makes me do incredibly stupid things."

He paused and took a steadying breath.

"So, the reason I chose to stand here tonight, and the reason I'm giving you this ad lib ramble rather than my prepared speech, is to publicly state the very basic reason why I was able to solve the riddle of time," Tony confessed. "Science—all disciplines of it—exists for us to evolve, to exceed our perceived limitations, and to be better than we were before. I was inspired by many men and women before me who did that, and I stand here tonight honored to stand among many others who have as well. Tonight is one of those moments where we publicly recognize great achievements, but I'd feel like a hypocrite and a fraud if I just stood here, basking in the spotlight and praise, then talked about what my introduction called the pinnacle of my inventions. Nice words, truly, but I think it's more important for me at this moment to admit and acknowledge that I don't always shine."

He paused again as his mouth tight and his breath choppy, but Tony kept a tight hold on the podium. His eyes stared into a sea of confused faces as he sifted his words and held onto the will to speak them.

"Contrary to myth and pop culture tales," he said, "I actually know a lot more about failure than I do success. Every setback, every inconclusive result, each and every botched trial and experiment, destroyed hypothesis, prematurely demolish prototype, and shred of contradictory data taught me more than every balanced equation, flawless test, or triumph ever did. There's probably an eastern philosophical axiom that phrases this concept better but it comes down to this: Falling taught me balance. So I would like the record to publicly show that this prize recipient speaks to you tonight, not as the man who helped map the Quantum realm but instead as the one who initially failed to do it. I gave up and gave in. I panicked. I retreated. I found myself, my mind, stuck in a dark and dangerous place. I still I carry that with me every day in the five-alarm trauma ward that resides behind these… adorable brown eyes."

He offered a small smirk that earned a suppressed chuckle in the room and a slight head tilt of silent commentary from his wife, but an impressive hush had fallen over the intellectually and emotionally hypnotized audience. As Tony's pause lingered, not a single sound emanated from the darkness. Pepper watched her husband as he bared his truest face and greatest secret to the world: the superhero's armor had flaws and was weak in spots. A solitary tear slid down Pepper's cheek as she smiled lovingly at him.

"Recorded history chronicles my share of strutting in the spotlight and basking in applause," Tony continued. "What none of those moments show are the hours, days, even weeks—easily exponentially higher in number and frequency—of frustration, despair, and anxiety that I experienced to reach those points. We're taught to expect pain in tragedy, but no one ever told me there would be apprehension, unease, and panic before, during or even after a triumph. I'm not talking about nervousness where you worry and work on theories and equations even in your sleep (although that does happen). I mean the crippling panic and anxiety, the kind that attack and paralyze; I'm talking about depression that shows up with tempting ideas that suggest ushering in the end is maybe not such a bad solution or any of the other painful proposals from the pantheon of dangerous reactions to pain and fear. They're unwanted guests that show up in the mind after traumatic events. Even little things—an innocent question at right moment—can get them churning and make me feel the same as I did in the moment that I watched my life flash before me or worse: when I saw the lives of others extinguished."

He paused and took a shaky breath, willing himself to just get the words out and finish what he had started.

"I've learned," he said, "through excruciating personal experiences and an almost pathologically idiotic resistance to seeking professional help, that my own mental wellness actually has a lot more in common with my scientific and mechanical research, namely being precarious and at times faulty. I've been tagged with a bunch of titles in my life. More than a few of them can be boiled down to one word: hero. I won't lie. It feels great when to hear it directed at you accompanied by applause and gushing compliments. It can be debated whether the title is deserved, and I frankly don't care what the majority vote is on me."

He turned his head abruptly to look toward another prize recipient for the evening seated to his right on the stage, Dr. Clarissa VonSchuler, that year's winner of the prize in Psychology

"What I do know," Tony continued as he nodded to VonSchuler, "is that given the opportunity to award someone that honor, I wouldn't choose myself. I'd turn to the likes of you and your colleagues, Dr. VonSchuler. You wade onto battlefields with no obvious fronts, no sure-fire weapons to combat countless foes, and with zero certainty that your strategic plans will ultimately succeed. Yet you do a service that cannot be underestimated; although it is, I believe, sadly undervalued. We live in a world where to be strong and mighty you're supposed to be the victor standing tall at the end of a war looking confident and unfazed. That's nice for movies, but that's not the life I've led."

He paused and looked into the crowd.

"Frayed, torn, and faking that it's all okay is a much better description of my experience," he confessed. "I can stand here tonight because I am in fact still here—which was a lot more difficult to manage than I suspect most people realize. More than that, I'm not a crumbling, teetering tower of crippling anxiety in part because of Dr. VonSchuler's field: psychiatry. It turns out, I'm damaged but not irredeemably so partly due to the care and support of a most compassionate wife and my precious children, as well as the patience and concern of a few amazingly loyal friends. Credit also goes to impressive technology and gifted medical doctors who healed my physical ailments, but even all of that was not enough. I also needed saving from my own mental short circuits. There have been moments when the greatest danger I faced was myself. I ultimately endured because, despite how stubborn I am, I finally found the courage to add the missing piece to my survival support squad: a shrink. I have my very own mental mechanic, who is still teaching me how to fix a lot of what doesn't always work properly in here."

Tony tapped his temple and took a deep breath as he felt his energy and desire to keep speak waning.

"Unlike in physics or math, I couldn't just work the equation and get my definite answer to put the problem to bed," he revealed. "As it turns out, this thing of mine, Generalized Anxiety Disorder with a side of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, has a lot of permutations for the triggers. To deal with it, I had to learn something very basic: Sometimes my biggest problem is that I have very flexible definition of what it means to be _'Okay_.' To keep it interesting, it turns out that while that sliding scale of '_Okay'_ not always a great thing, there are times when it's also what gets me through the bad and dark moments. Basically, it's the emotional equivalent of Schrödinger's cat; it's there and it's not at the same time, and both are correct except when they aren't. I can smile at the world and fool everyone… except myself. For example, I'm speaking to you tonight rather calmly, yet I'm also currently having one of those_ Okay but not actually Okay_ moments. You see, even in the middle of a safe celebration to receive recognition, I'm on the verge of freaking out because despite how far I've come, I still occasionally have bad moments. Of course, the good news is that there are also good days—a lot of them—and I wring whatever I can out of those."

He took a beat then turned his head to look again at VonSchuler. The honored doctor stared at him with an amazed expression. Her palms were held together and her fingertips pressed against her lips as tears blistered in her eyes.

"So while I do graciously thank the Academy for praising my contributions to physics," Tony said, "I've got to say that lately I'm much more enamored with the efforts of your field, Dr. VonSchuler. For me, your field has been the difference between living and just existing—or worse, not doing either of those. Your crew is invited to hang out with me anytime. So, thank you and everyone who does the hard and necessary work that you do, and I thank the rest of you for patiently listening."

He nodded and stepped back from the podium and took a cleansing breath. There was a pause before his fellow recipients began applauding with VonSchuler leading the way. She broke ceremony protocol and walked swiftly to Tony's side with her long, black skirt flowing after her like it was chasing her quick steps. She initially grasped his hand, then spontaneously embraced him as she expressed her thanks. Their brief discussion was held in her native tongue of German; she apologized to him that she was too taken aback to find the right words in English. He responded in flawless German that he understood her just fine. She followed up by telling him she was grateful for the praise and amazed at his astounding admission. She then commended him on his bravery to make the speech in such a public venue.

As they exchanged their short sentences, the rest of the audience began clapping. The applause built slowly. The solemn nods in the room accompanied stunned and contemplative expressions. Pepper had blinked back tears as the clapping swelled and turned into a crescendo complete with a standing ovation. Tony merely nodded as he looked through the sea of faces and found his wife's. She nodded in return. He then searched for and found the camera broadcasting the event. He stared into it purposefully and offered a message to his daughter in a form of private sign language only Morgan would understand. He briefly bunched his fist and tapped his chest then signaled with his hand by flashing the number three followed by the American Sign Language gesture for the letter "K" (short hand for the number 1,000). Translated, it was a silent abbreviation of her preferred adoration to him: _I love you 3000_.

The TV documentary then faded from the speech and turned to some astounding repercussions affiliated with Tony's admission.

Since the night the speech was broadcast and the world heard Iron Man admit to suffering from emotional distress and suicidal thoughts, calls to mental health counseling hotlines had steadily increased by more than 300 percent in the United States; soldiers and law enforcement officers seeking mental health evaluations or requesting assistance with psychological trauma had more than doubled. That, the documentary narrator stated, was among Tony Stark's most lasting gifts to the world: the courage to say the difficult and painful four letter word of 'help.'

As the program drew to a close, Pepper sighed then listened to the oppressive quiet of her home. She then looked at the time. There would be people arriving at the house soon. She had duties needing her attention, and there was no time for misty tears.

**oOoOo**

The alert came from above, a whispered warning report of '_incoming_.'

Tony looked at his watch and scowled. He's lost track of time. It was a vital miscalculation and a colossal oversight in his strategy. He scrubbed his hand over his now smooth face and chin; his previously iconic goatee departed with the previous season. Oddly, the small change had a miraculous effect. It helped him blend better into crowds initially. He didn't make official public appearances any longer. Leaving behind a lot of the baggage of his past had meant changing the way he interacted with the world in the present.

And, in the present, he needed to get his team on the same page as him. Precious seconds were ticking away, and discovery was sadly imminent.

"Okay," he said quietly with forced calm behind the recently constructed barricade. "Stick to the plan. No charging out. No Lone Ranger acts. You stay low, and you wait for my signal. Got it?"

He received a quick thumbs up and a determined nod as the door to his right opened. A long shadow fell across the open and unprotected section of the floor. Tony put his fingers to his lips as a reminder to his teammate that silence was imperative. He received a small giggle in response.

"What's going on in here?" Pepper asked as she looked across the room.

An eager cooed from the opposite side of the room. Small feet then took several unsteady but enthusiastic steps forward as James stumbled out of his hiding spot among the cushions that formed his pillow fort, a structure which stood opposite Tony and Morgan's ramparts in the main room of the recently completed Stark family's treehouse.

"Mama," the little boy with dark hair and dark eyes exclaimed eagerly.

Tony peaked between the cushions and pillows, stolen from the furniture around the room (just like his opponents' walls were). He spied his son toddling excitedly across the space with his arms raised in anticipation of being picked up by the woman who had been (until recently) the child's meals in heels.

"Jamie surrendered!" Morgan shouted and popped up with a grin, leaving the barricade she shared with her father. "We win!"

Tony groaned and hung his head.

"Hold on, I didn't give you a signal," he said to his daughter as he too climbed out of their hiding space to see his wife gazing in his direction with a questioning expression. "She didn't follow my plan."

Pepper scooped up her recently-walking son then sighed as she shook her head at her spouse.

"I believe I started with: What's going on in here?" she repeated.

Her eyes took in the scene and identified two pillow forts on opposite sides of the main room of the treehouse—a sprawling creation that spanned several trees on the Stark property near the house. It was Tony's latest engineering marvel on the home front. The structure was split into four interconnected pods—slightly reminiscent of his previous home in Malibu. It contained three small sleeping chambers that fed into a common area which held a small kitchen coupled with a center room for gathering. A deck from which to view the lake wrapped around the outside. The structure was reachable by a set of stairs for the less adventurous (and a rope and pulley elevator for those looking for a bit of fun ascending or descending). Pepper had so far vetoed Tony's desire to add a zip line system down to the lake for quicker exits, but he was still working on her about that.

The project had started as a small sketch Tony made for Morgan on the flight back from receiving his Nobel Prize in Sweden seven months earlier. It then bloomed into an architectural endeavor in which he contracted with Cap's granddaughter, the budding architect who was now a paid member of Team Stark and helping design the new west coast headquarters for the company's recently created biomechanical production division. While all of that was exciting to stockholders, what interested the Stark children (and their father) most was that the treehouse had been completed before the summer arrived. Since being furnished, Pepper noted she was more apt to find her family ensconced among the trees than in the house in the afternoons.

"Tony?" Pepper prodded when she did not receive a prompt response.

"You said not to make a mess of the actual house," he answered. "You never said we couldn't have fun up here."

Pepper offered him a flat look. Before she could argue with his logic, Morgan decided to join the discussion. She climbed over the pillow barricades while pointing back at them.

"Mommy!" she beamed. "We built forts!"

"I see that," Pepper nodded. "Is that your school backpack on the floor where it doesn't belong?"

She turned her eyes to the shiny pink sack as her daughter nodded happily. It rested precisely where Morgan dropped it upon returning home from her last day of kindergarten that afternoon.

"We've only been up here about an hour," Tony defended. "Whatever's left in her lunchbox won't be toxic yet."

"This is a lot of work, and by work I mean mess, for the two of you in just an hour," she noted. "Why are there two forts if you're on the same side?"

"Jamie was in the other one," Morgan pointed in that direction. "He wanted to be on Uncle Rhodey's team."

"Cover's blown," Tony said then used his foot to topple the other fort's front wall reveal his friend hunkered down where he had hoped the CEO of Stark Industries wouldn't discover him behaving like the child Rhodes often chided her husband for being.

"Hey, Pepper," Rhodes grimaced as he waved meekly then scowled as Tony grinned at him. "This was all Tony's idea so I just went along with it because I wanted to avoid him pitching a tantrum."

"You're just sore because my fort was better," Tony muttered.

"Oh yeah?" Rhodes replied as he pointed to his now tumbled walls. "My boy and I had access to the kitchen. That means food and supplies. You're pinned in a corner without resources over there."

"First off all, round room ergo no corners," Tony argued as he pointed to his former position. "Next, back here is an entire basket of stuffed animals. That's ammunition to take out your fortifications. We had what we needed to take what we wanted. Plus, your second-in-command is actually a double agent. He'd be on my side in the crucial moment, proof of that to be found when, as Morgan said, he surrendered your position so…."

"Or," Rhodes interrupted as he countered, "that's all part of our plan and…"

"Great," Pepper groaned. "Two grown men watching my children but not a single adult in the room."

"Well, you're here now," Tony offered with an impish shrug that made her grin. "So you're hired."

She deftly gained control of James's nimble fingers as he began trying to pull off the necklace she wore. He was a curious child, like his sister, but without her gentleness. He liked knocking things over, pulling things apart, and screeching with elation as he did it. Tony called it a thirst for discovery; Pepper called it penchant for destruction. Morgan called it annoying. It turned out that the little girl did like her baby brother, but she liked him in measured doses and was glad for the hours she spent at school each day. Now that school was done for the summer, she was counting the days until her summer camp started. Her brother, who she alone called Jamie, adored her and chased after her (first by crawling and more recently by walking/running) while trying to mimic most of what she did. Thus there had been several glitter-related incidents in the house.

Pepper was glad her children (at least) were playing nicely that afternoon, even if they were on separate sides in their mock battle. She and Tony had to play parent-on-child defense when Morgan or James was not in the mood for sibling attention yet receiving copious amounts of it. With James now having teeth, biting was the latest challenge.

With that in mind, Pepper ran her finger in the child's mouth to see if any more fangs were working their way to the surface since breakfast. She was satisfied to find none; a family vacation during a teething episode would not make for a relaxing time. Next, (out of a force of habit), she took a peek under her son's shirt at the specially manufactured nanotech monitor he wore on his chest. Tony spotted her action and answered before her eyes saw the device.

"He's fine," he reported, flashing his wrist to indicate his watch (that also served as a remote reader for the baby's vitals monitor). "Just, you know, excited like usual."

Her eyes grazed the monitor on her own wrist—part of Tony's patented design to allow the wearer to know the child's vitals at any given second. The small, nano-tech disc that rested on James's chest (like his own ultra-mini arc reactor) glowed a soft and reassuring blue. Despite her husband's accepted and reassuring report, Pepper still glanced at her specialized watch (just as she did a dozen times each day while working) to see the perpetual readouts from the monitor. As expected, the numbers were all in the normal and expected range.

James would bid farewell to the device permanently in a matter of days following the all-clear report given by all experts who examined the little boy. Their review of his continual progress over the previous 12 months determined there was no need to continue the minute-by-minute monitoring of his heart and lungs. After a rough start and protracted stay in the hospital followed by frequent visits to respiratory and pulmonary specialists after his birth, James Peter Stark was officially determined to be a healthy, normal, little boy (who just happened to hang out daily in a futuristic lab with robots and was depicted in his sister's art work as a short velociraptor).

Life was stable (if predictably chaotic) at the Stark house on most days. Morgan went to school. Tony went to work in his shop at the back of the garage. James went with him several days each week when Pepper did not work from home. On days with Daddy, the little boy spent his time a few feet from Tony in a sectioned off area where there was nothing he could get into that would be dangerous. While there, James played with his toys and jabbered (previously nonsensical sounds but more recently actual words) as his father worked on his development projects.

Tony divided his time between two projects. The first was part of what the press called the Global Carbon Reduction Initiative, having dumped the title Ross Global Initiative simply because they could. The latest phase of the project for Tony involved his new chlorophyll engines, which were being manufactured at a clean energy plant in Tennessee. His other point of professional focus was on the development of more intelligent and cost effective bio sensors for children, like the one his son wore. Since becoming the father of a preemie, Tony had learned a lot about the many costly tests and monitoring such children often required. The price tag for the care of a premature child was miniscule for his bank account, but he knew he was truly the exception to that. After talking to others with children facing similar (or worse) conditions and seeing their financial struggles, Tony tackled the problem. He saw no reason that making sure your child was getting the medical aid it needed should render a family bankrupt. So he rolled up most of what the many necessary machines did and found ways to make his nano tech do it better, faster, and infinitely cheaper (gaining several new patents in the process in order to stop the rest of the pharmaceutical from cornering the market to keep prices for the necessary equipment falsely high). Stark Industries had begun manufacturing the new monitors two months prior to rave reviews from neonatal specialists and beleaguered and worried parents alike. It was hard to say which breakthrough was getting more praise, the accuracy and convenience of the monitors or the fact the price for caring for the average, viable preemie went from $150,000 during the first critical year to about $500.

Both parts were earning Stark Industries accolades and had stocks soaring again like in the days when they made bombs. Things were busy but stable, which allowed Pepper greater time with her family and was permitting them to take an upcoming vacation; however, before that could happen there were plans for that evening (and a treehouse that looked like a tornado hit the inside).

"What time did you actually come up here?" Pepper asked, looking around at the mess.

"Just after I texted you that I got Morgan from the bus," he said. "I know I said we were going to the garage, but then Rhodey arrived so Morgan and James asked to show him the treehouse."

"Morgan _and_ James asked?" Pepper questioned doubtfully as she looked at her son, who grinned with his recently erupted front teeth. "Tony, James says about 10 identifiable words. Five are basically names. Three relate to food. The other two are _me_ and _no_."

She smirked as she detailed her son's vocabulary, finding it fitting that the final two words on the list were wonderfully indicative of his two parents' personalities.

"In English, yes," Tony agreed readily. "But he and I talk all day. Some of what he says sounds a bit like Italian. I'm going to work on a universal translator to prove it. For now, if you want to be mad at anyone, this is all kind of all Rhodey's fault."

His friend scoffed instantly as Tony jerked a thumb at him, flagrantly deflecting any responsibility for the mess surrounding their feet.

"How is you goading me into building forts—one of which (mine) is vastly superior—my fault?" Rhodes asked.

"You stopped by so you do the math," Tony answered. "Why did you stop by?"

"He's here because I invited him for dinner," Pepper replied. "He's part of the surprise. Remember how you said you didn't want to do anything for your birthday last week?"

"Right," Tony nodded. "You agreed."

"I did," she replied. "What I didn't tell you is that I agreed because I decided to invite people over today instead. Before you object, it's not just for you. We're away on vacation on James's first birthday so we're having people over tonight to see him and celebrate. It's a shared celebration."

Tony lifted an eyebrow at her savvy at making the plans without his knowledge. He then folded his arms.

"Did you invite my friends or James's friends?" he wondered.

"Jamie doesn't have friends," Morgan laughed. "He's a baby."

"People say that your dad, too," Rhodey nodded to her, which made her laugh even louder.

Things were a bit hectic on the Stark schedule that week. The family was heading on vacation shortly—a week in California on the yacht. Throughout the spring, Tony had been traveling to the new manufacturing plant in Tennessee every few weeks to check in with the engineers bringing his green engine plans to life. While Pepper was glad her husband was back in the research and development business, she felt time away from the creation and perfecting of his projects was needed (plus she had more than earned a few days off as well).

Tony had initially resisted taking a break, but Pepper reminded him that he'd managed to pull together a team he actually trusted (one that included Harley, who had recently completed his sophomore year at Georgia Tech after transferring and passing his classes while maintaining his status as Tony's intern). With no worries on any front, the family was taking a trip together and leaving board rooms and laboratories behind. Once her persuasion was complete, she set the date for their travel to coincide with Tony's last "must do" task on the calendar that June: serving as the best man in Happy's upcoming wedding.

The former bodyguard was slated to marry Peter's Aunt May in a two days' time. The bachelor party had been the week prior when Peter got home after completing his first year at MIT (with a GPA 3.75 that earned him two scholarships for the next year so that he didn't feel he was imposing completely on Tony for his tuition). The bachelor party had been a mild evening (at May's request/edict) even though it involved jumping a few time zones for the small quartet of attendees: Happy (the groom), Tony (his best man), Rhodes (his groomsman/usher), and Peter (who would give away the bride). After going to Happy's favorite restaurant in LA, they had courtside seats to see the Knicks play the Lakers in an NBA playoff game.

Rhodes and Happy both commented how being there felt a lot like old times like when they all lived on the west coast. Peter was ecstatic to be there but was also on alert the entire time. Since the rescue of his mentor the previous June and after watching Tony's Nobel speech the following December, he felt an extra desire to protect the man. His dedication was so evident that Happy joked he felt like the kid had replaced him as Tony's bodyguard (a duty that Tony had, once again, hired a professional staff to do, led by none other than the now-recovered and fully-dedicated Ollie Reynolds).

The only spot of possible trouble on the horizon for the family involved the wedding itself. Morgan, the flower girl, was asking to wear plastic gauntlets that contained LED lights to mimic flight stabilizers from a suit of armor. She also wanted to wear a headband that had blinking antennae. Tony was leaving that decision/fight to Pepper for resolution (but he had secretly programmed a circuit to blink the lighted boppers in the headband in synchronization with the ceremony's music if the kid got her way). Now that he was walking, James also had a place in the wedding. He was slated to be the ring bearer, but everyone just accepted that Pepper would walk him down the aisle as he was more apt to put the rings in his mouth or chase his sister while screeching for his own enjoyment if left without close supervision.

"So, who's invited to the party?" Tony asked.

"Rhodey and Happy are two of the guests," Pepper said evasively. "Peter is supposed to be here as well."

"Mommy," Morgan shouted as she began hopping, "Peter is…"

"Yes, Peter will be arriving soon," Pepper nodded. "I'm surprised he's not here yet."

"Okay, but Happy, Peter, and Rhodey are here a lot," Tony noted then caught his wife's smirk. "They're not guests. They're… regulars. You made it sound like you have others coming. I got a weird message from Clint yesterday asking if I thought the color red was stealthy. It felt a lot like he was teeing up a punchline but didn't deliver it. Are you two in cahoots here?"

"If you attend dinner, you'll see," she replied.

"_If_ I attend?" Tony repeated. "Where else would I be?"

"You're not coming to the party if this place is still a mess," Pepper decreed with a smile. "Rhodey, would you walk Morgan down the stairs?"

"Mommy, I can do it by myself," the little girl proclaimed.

The kindergartner then huffed indignantly but took Rhodes offered hand all the same.

"No, Pep, hold on," Tony object. "Why does Rhodey not have to pick up the mess he helped make?"

"Because he's a guest," she replied as the former Air Force colonel and Morgan walked toward the stairs.

"It's my birthday party," Tony replied. "Yet somehow, I'm only provisionally invited, and I'm being punished."

"It's a shared party, and you don't know what your gift is yet," his wife smiled.

Tony's eyebrows shot up and a surprised grin tugged on his lips.

"Your tone intrigues me," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her. "Who's going to like the gift more, you or me?"

"You'll have to wait and see," she said.

"Divorce papers or a straitjacket?" he guessed. "Those would probably make you happy."

"What's divorce papers?" Morgan asked from the stairs outside.

The apparent grin on Rhodes' face could be heard in his voice.

"Something your mom has earned after a lot of hard work," he said in a cheerful voice.

"Oh," the child continued, not at all concerned or worried about the answers. "What's a straitjacket?"

"Something your Daddy needs only slightly less than a mute button some days," Rhodes continued.

Pepper grinned and gave her husband a quick kiss as she prepared to leave. However, her departure was halted when a body dropped from the ceiling. Peter somersaulted to the floor, landing with a soft but abrupt dismount from his previous perch. He whispered an apology as Pepper yelped, which prompted a laugh from James.

"Did Mommy see Peter on the ceiling?" Morgan asked, her voice sounding unconcerned at her mother's surprise. Whatever Rhodes replied earned him a giggle.

"Peter?" Pepper gasped as she looked up to see where he had been. "What were you doing?"

"Um, I was observing," he replied as he pointed needlessly into the soaring conical ceiling. "I didn't want to pick a side in their pretend battle so…"

"So I appointed him to be a satellite," Tony offered. "He was really on my side though, right kid?"

Peter blinked and blushed before nodding quickly and looking away.

"Uh… sure, Tony," he answered as he swallowed. "Of course."

"Stick to the truth," Tony growled. "You're no good at lying. Just so you know, your lack of support just now cost you learning the password for how to get into Fort Morgan."

"Yes, that will definitely teach him a lesson," Pepper chided. "I, however, have suitable punishment for his participation in the making of this disaster scene. Peter, go set the table with Morgan—place settings for nine. Don't let her put a knife on the tray for James' highchair."

"A knife?" he swallowed. "I thought she liked him."

"She does," Pepper nodded as she adjusted the squirming child on her hip as he began tugging on her hair. "She just thinks that because he's started using a spoon that he gets all the utensils."

Tony sighed.

"She's brilliant and recognizes that her brother is highly advanced because he's bilingual," he said proudly, lifting his chin and puffing out his chest only to receive an eye roll from his wife as he tweaked the baby's cheek. "Morgan gives him the benefit of the doubt even though he still drools a lot. She knows that even though he's not officially a year old, he was obviously the strongest and most capable member of Team Rhodey this afternoon at Fort James."

Peter pressed his lips tightly to avoid smirking as he ducked his head and started down the steps to avoid being in the middle of the couple's banter. He was a frequent enough visitor at the Stark home while on breaks from MIT to recognize that Tony liked when his wife scolded him and preferred to savor those moments in private.

"Are you done bragging about your children?" Pepper asked.

"Not remotely, but I've said enough for the moment," Tony replied while pulling her closer. "So, what's really the deal with the party?"

Pepper sighed and kissed the baby's head.

"We've been through a lot in the last year, and I figured that a celebration was called for," she said.

James, contentedly chewing on his small fist, watched his parents in drooling fascination. Tony grinned at the boy.

"When she says '_a lot_' she means you showing up early and me nearly put her over the edge with worry," he told his son. "Consider getting a party for our efforts a nice form of probation." He then turned his full gaze on his wife as he grinned. "Now, about the present you said I would like so much…"

Pepper shook her head and slipped out of his arms before starting toward the door toting their son.

"You're not even attending the party, much less getting any gifts, if this room isn't back in order by the time the last of the guests arrive," she promised over her shoulder.

"Then leave him with me," Tony said, reaching for and taking the child from her. "You get him all day tomorrow. Besides, he helped make some of this mess… by not stopping us."

"You're keeping him as a ploy so you can to come to the party whether you've picked up this room or not," Pepper guessed as she folded her arms.

"Can't have a party without the guests of honor," Tony asserted as he grinned at her. "Oh, and just so you know, the gifts I'm hoping for involves the bed and another involves the shower. Also, a midnight gift in the lake is a nice way to say happy birthday to the man who gave you brilliant, perfect children."

"More talking means less picking up," Pepper smiled as she turned and left the treehouse. "More of a mess means fewer gifts. Guests will be arriving soon."

"I've got plenty of time," Tony called after her then looked at his son. "We've got plenty of time, right?"

He held up his hand and received a head-butt to it rather than a high-five. Tony shrugged and accepted the reaction. He'd just store that as intel in case the kid gave up biting his sister and decided head ramming her was his new way to get attention or win an power struggle.

Tony shook his head but grinned as he looked at the disarray of the room. The actual mess was not as bad as it looked. It was a matter of returning every cushion and pillow to its proper place and tossing the toys back into the toy box (while keeping watch that James didn't empty the box after his father filled it). The reorganizing effort only took 15 minutes but convinced Tony they needed a robot in the treehouse full-time to keep it in order. He made a mental note to begin working on one after vacation.

As he scooped up his son to head toward the door, Tony noted a picture on the wall was askew. In it, a slim man with dark hair showing the first signs of gray and a matching mustache, leaned on a lab table with his sleeves rolled up. He stood beside a skinny teenager with dark hair and inky round eyes. In front of them were the schematics for a one-armed robot.

"So what do you think, Dad?" Tony asked the picture of himself and his father, as he adjusted the frame back to a level position and spied the reflection of himself and James in the glass. "Good enough?"

The picture gave no verbal answer, but the image of the man smiled back proudly. Tony nodded at it then closed the door to the treehouse as yellow rays of sunlight broke through the canopy of the trees and cast a soft glow on the photo.

**oOo ****_EPILOGUE_**** oOo**

_June 1970_

Soft, golden light fell on Howard Stark's face—the first rays of morning—as he sat in a chair beside the crib in the new baby's nursery at the Manhattan penthouse the Starks called home. Maria had decreed when they brought their son home from the hospital a day earlier that she didn't think city life was what the child needed. She believed they needed a house with a yard. Howard nodded but didn't pursue the discussion. He'd have her look for a house in the Hamptons, some place out of the city but not too far out. His work required him to be nearby.

Then again, he sighed as he looked at the snoozing infant in his arms, he didn't think he'd be around much when it came to raising the boy. Boarding school was definitely going to play a big role in the kid's future. Howard just hoped his son was smart enough to get into a good one; otherwise, there would need to be a lot of money thrown around.

It would be for the best, he decided. Distancing himself from his son was a difficult decision that he'd made a month or so earlier. Having the child was foolish, a liability. Howard's son was a target the moment he was born. Howard knew he would do all he could to protect the boy, but that meant making sacrifices. When Anthony was old enough, Howard planned to explain all of it to him.

He looked down at the child who stretched in his sleep then cracked his round eyes to gaze upward at his father. The boy appeared to be a fair mix of his parents so far, but those eyes were undeniably the Stark side. Howard unconsciously smiled at the infant but felt a clench in his chest that reminded him distance was the key to keeping his son safe. The boy would have guards, unseen watchers, around him always—an invisible army protecting him the only way his father knew how. Howard felt the tiny, new creature in his arms and was struck by how fragile he seemed. The vulnerability of the thing just confirmed for Howard that SHIELD's ruling council was right: His child was a liability.

Several of the members went so far in recent days as to encourage Howard to either give the boy up or for Howard to leave his family entirely. The problem with both suggestions was, despite his attempts at preventing it, Howard loved his wife and his son. He couldn't explain why or how that happened. He didn't want it that was certain, because both were impediments to his ambitions and his duty, but there was an unyielding knot in his chest at the thought of leaving either of them.

Still, the council was insistent. They needed their leading inventor to focus on SHIELD. They feared a young family would steal his attention. It was Peggy Carter who clapped back at them. She did so instantly and firmly in such a way that Howard even recoiled from her. She decreed that SHIELD could arrange protection for the child. Howard agreed to that on one condition: Peggy needed to oversee the plans and have full control of them. She readily agreed and informed him that she had already put teams in place to ensure the child's safety.

That, of course, left Howard with a greater dilemma: being a dad.

"I'm telling you right now that I'm going to be a terrible father," he confessed quietly to the baby as he held cuddled the infant in his arms. "I'm not good with people, and I don't know a damn thing about babies or children of any age. I know machines so if I treat you like one, don't be offended. I'll do the best I can. It's just that my best is not always good enough—not at first anyway. I lost a friend a long time ago, and I did everything I could to find him, but I failed. So, that's what you've got as an old man, kid: a failure."

He sighed as the child squirmed and made his father go rigid with fear that he might drop the little thing. His heart stopped pounding as he realized the wriggling wasn't going to make the child slip from his grasp.

"Although, for a failure, I'm a very rich man," he explained with a bragging smile. "You're not the first thing I invented, but you're the only thing I've created that I'm worried I won't ever understand. See, that's the thing with inventors: We make stuff that didn't exist before, and we do it because we see there's a need for it. You were actually your mother's idea, not mine, so I don't know what to do with you. You didn't come with instructions. I met a guy not long ago who said he had to piece together what to do with his daughter one day at a time. Well, I can't do that. I've got a lot of other concerns that need my full attention, but you don't have to worry. Your mother's going to be there for you… Jarvis too if I'm reading the way he's acting lately accurately. Just so we're clear, he actually works for me, not you. That means you're supposed to listen to him and do what he says if your mother or I aren't around."

The child grunted and jerked mildly in his father's arms.

"Let me guess, you don't like following instructions or doing what you're told," Howard huffed. "Figures you'd inherit that from me. You're gonna be as much of a burden on your mother as I am, kid."

He sighed and looked forlornly at the child as his thoughts strayed to Maria.

This whole idea of being parents had been hers. Again, he was weak for her and normally couldn't deny her anything she wanted, yet he would have to this time. She had the baby she desired, but she also wanted Howard to step back a bit from his career and be a father to their son. She had no idea that Howard only spent half of his time working at his office in Manhattan. She knew he was the leading weapons contractor for the Defense Department, but she knew nothing of his work with SHIELD nor the dangerous life she married into when accepting his marriage proposal two years earlier. She would be disappointed in him when he failed at being the devoted father she wanted him to be.

"That's the other thing with inventors," he continued as the child yawned and blinked his dark, round eyes. "We do a lot wrong at the start, most everything actually, but that's how we learn what works and what doesn't. Sometimes, people get hurt in the process. Sometimes, it's the inventor himself. Other times, it's those around him. It's the nature of the beast, kid. I've made my peace with the fact that you're probably going to hate me for what I'm going to do regarding you—at least for now. I do want what's best for you, but what I think that is and what you'll think that is might not be the same—especially if you're anything like me. I'm a headstrong sonofabitch who never met a rule I liked unless I made it up."

He sighed as he stared into the small face and felt a lump rise in his throat. What caused it he did not know, but he worried it was regret.

"The world's a dangerous place, kido," Howard said. "I do what I can to keep it safe; I'll do that for you too, but that means making sacrifices. Some of them, you'll never know about. Others, you won't understand until you're much older. While you're waiting for that time to arrive is probably when you'll start hating me. But no matter what, I want you to know that I… I do love you. I just met you and even though you're too small to even pick up your head, I know somehow that you're necessary and needed in this world. You'll do great things someday, son. Amazing things that will change the world for the better. I know that in my heart because you're a Stark. That doesn't mean anything to you right now, but we're made of something a lot tougher than muscle and bone. We've got an iron will that pisses people off, but it's there for a reason. We don't stop. Ever. We're smart, and we're survivors. Don't you ever forget that. Now, I'm not known for being helpful or generous—that's more of your mother's world. You'll find out that people call me some not so great things. Frankly, I've earned some of it, and I'm not sorry about most of that. So, I can't say I'll have a lot of great fatherly advice to pass on to you, but here's something I do know: No amount of money has ever bought back a second of time because time is the thief, kid. Never let it take anything from you that's yours to keep. You steal it back, break the rules to do it if have to, and hang onto it with all you've got."

**oOoOo**

**_A/N:_** Thanks for joining me on this ride. I'm sad it's over, but like Tony Stark himself (to invoke Vision's quote about humanity) a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. If you like my writing, please consider picking up my original novels (links on my author page). The ebooks cost less than a cup of coffee. The paperbacks are affordable, too. Give another genre and some new characters a chance. Peace.


	44. Chapter 44

**_Note:_**

_There is now a sequel to this story:_

**_Out of Time_**

_Please check it out. :)_


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